Okay, sort of revealing my age here, but by 1997 I was past undergrad (entirely, not half) and starting my last year of grad school. People were pennying each other into, and out of, dorm rooms -- as related to me by men; I don't think this was a woman thing at my school for whatever reason -- in the late eighties. Sorry, Sweets, they did not invent that for you.
That Sweets may have been happy, albeit delusional, with his pre-1997 life is not what I perceive as the problem here. The problem is that he cannot conceive of being happy under any other circumstances. If he got a scholarship to some other school and was able to finally finish undergrad, he'd be unhappy because it wasn't ASU. Forget not being trolled by "Ashleigh" anymore. He wouldn't be able to cope with the "not ASU" factor anyplace else because he can't move beyond this unfinished business in his mind. People find the "eight hours lost in the hospital" incident silly, but it also speaks to a devastating lack of executive function. How do I not lost? Possibly by going to a ground floor and leaving through one of the doors there? If he'd had one of the goshdurn newfangled cell phones he so vehemently resists, he could have called home and been picked up in less than an hour, not eight hours, but somehow he can't even insert that into his mental schema. Taking new information on board is just so bizarre to him -- he doesn't understand why one would -- that it makes me feel a tiny bit sorry for him. (It may also keep him locked into his racist mindset, although I think he just plain enjoys that by now.) Not a lot. But a tiny bit.