My parents always made me do a ton of chores growing up, and essentially made me learn how to cook at a pretty young age. This was a huge blessing in disguise because by the time I moved out, I was pretty used to cooking and cleaning for a family of four.
I moved out at 21 after finishing community college and transferring to a four-year university. I lived in the transfer dorms for my first year, and was lucky enough to live in the same building as two of my close friends that transferred with me. While it was expensive as hell to live in a crammed three person dorm room, I'm still glad I did it because it felt like I got the true "college experience."
After that, I moved into a shitty house off-campus with those same two friends. There were eight people living in that three bedroom house all together, which was wild but the only way to get cheap rent in this California beach town. It sounds terrible but we all became close friends and it was overall a fun (but messy) experience. This was my first real experience at living on my own and thanks to my overbearing Asian American parents, I was relatively ready for it. In comparison, most of my housemates could barely cook for themselves and one of them would bring his dirty laundry back to his parents' house to do. I was going to school full-time, working between one to three part-time jobs at all times, and still had time to do fun college things.