Grow Up People!

I have recently discovered one of the saddest truths in life, and that is that no matter how much you might want something to go a certain way, chances are, it won't. For example, earlier this evening I suggested that I attend an event tomorrow with a certain boy who is as close to me as a few of my brothers are. I have no interest in dating him, nor does he in me. Trust me, I'm not being naive when I say this, because I absolutely know there's no romantic interest in either parties. The reason I say this is because we've been through that before, and now we're over it. Anywho, so my 'rents are still calling it a date, even though I see it strictly as hanging out. To my dismay, they refuse to see it simply as hanging out, and strictly as a date. In which case, they would like me to not be singularly dating, so they're considering not letting me attend this event. The way they see a date is anything that is preplanned forw, which is entirely understandable. I didn't ask them to, I was merely requesting that they accept that I don't date every guy I hang out with. They did not, I repeat DID NOT change their opinion that a date is an event certain date and time, with a certain person[s] of the opposite gender. If that were evenly remotely true, everything I went to with a guy would be a date, and I would have no control over who I choose to date. That being said, I like to think that I do have control of whom I date, meaning that I choose my own dates.
Naturally, taking the role of the parent, they refused to change their point of vieeir view one teeny bit! I was slowly becoming outraged. This entire situation was becoming so ridiculous and outlandish that I decided to take my plate [yes, this is our usual dinner table discussion] and my glass of grapes and stormed off to my room. Ok, I admit, that might have been childish, but I was overly sick of my parents' immaturity in this area.
As I'm sitting in my room with my now cold plate of magnificent Mongolian BBQ, the first thing I do after entering is put on my favorite pair of Steve Maddens, sit on my bed and pout, like any teenage drama queen. In my mind I can imagine myself sitting on my bed in stilettos that do NOT match my outfit in ANY way, eating cold stir-fry and amazing grapes, thinking of how ridiculous my parents are treating me. Typical drama queen, no? I suppose now that I'm somewhat more calm I can go back to my cold-er food and iced water. Cheers.