I just have to say, this day… sucks. How can any day follow Inauguration day? Seriously, as a country – we should be given the day after the Inauguration off to mentally prepare for how boring our lives really are. Hope you all had a chance to check out my Inauguration day photos via the amazing social media world of Twitter (click here).
Here is my personal favorite from the day (because it’s of me obviously… and Saaghi jooooon designed it ;) ):
Anyway, I received some valuable insight today at work – always learning, my boss would be so proud – I was told this:
All men are dogs – there are the purebreds and the street dog/mutts. Purebreds can be trained… they are keepers. Mutts are for the streets.
I’m still trying to figure out the difference between a mutt and a purebred — so I can’t really dissect that one for now, but I’ll keep you all posted. As always.
When I graduated high school – I really didn’t think about all of that. All that pressure of finding a nice guy who is responsible, well suited for dad, and treats me well (AKA a purebred) was never the main focus in my mind. Back then it was all about whether they were hot … or not.
In the early days of college, going out was about meeting boys and either bringing them back to our place or making out with them at the bar. And that was just the norm.
We went out solely to meet boys – our night’s fun was dependent on how many times we gave our number out and whether we kissed anyone.
During my sophomore year of college, I lived with my four best friends under one roof and it was an absolute shitshow. We went out maybe four or five times in a week – and drinking was a given. We pre-gamed, dressed up in our sluttiest outfits (back when it was “cute” to wear lingerie tops to the club), and set up a buddy system so that one of us always had a “wing-woman.”
And shockingly, we weren’t the only group of girls (or guys) who did this. At the end of the night, we would grab drunchies (at your local Jack in the Box) and retell our shenanigans from the night. Obviously, sometimes that activity was replaced with passing the eff out in our party clothes the second we ran home.
Regardless, our night’s success was based on d*ck at a time where we were still too scared to actually sit… on … the … d*ck.
If you know what I mean.
I remember one time, one of my girlfriends managed to kiss three guys in one night – and we were jealous of her because she got so much action.
Not that I would encourage making out with three guys in one night because mouth diseases are a very real thing, but we were uninhibited — and we had just joined a world where these activities were perpetuated through a series of experiences… mistakes… and downright fun – #ILearnedSoMuchInCollege
Back then, we were young, sleazy, and free.
And that’s okay because you grow out of it.
I had a year of fun and excitement and stupid, harmless mistakes – and then one day, going out wasn’t just so I could meet boys… going out became something where I could go, drink and have fun with my friends. My friends weren’t my “wing-women” (unless they really needed to be), they became the people that I was going out to be with.
Our success wasn’t reliant on whether we made out with anyone or gave our phone numbers to a guy – our successes were based on finding good bars, laughing, and no one getting sick at the end of the night — clearly, we don’t have all the kinks worked out.
And the most ironic part, whenever I’m out NOT trying to meet a guy – that’s when it happens the most. Because that feeling of desperation isn’t there… and somehow guys detect that. At least, that’s my theory and I’m sticking to it.
There’s a very real difference between going out to just meet boys and going out to just have fun.
And it’s way better to go out to just have fun – if some cutie is added to that equation then f#ck yeah, and if not – at least you have fun friends.
My “club/bar outfits” are no longer put together to attract guys — they’re put together for me. Whether I choose to wear a sexy top or just a plain white tank top – whatever is most comfortable for me because that’s when I feel the sexiest.
And my lingerie tops are now solely reserved for the bedroom — I’m still getting over my embarrassment of wearing a see through shirt (WITH A BRA) to a party.
My night isn’t ruined if I don’t meet a guy – in fact these days, my nights are rarely ruined as long as I’m with my friends.
The best ending to a night isn’t finding the hottest guy and taking him home to my bed, it’s when I end the night stuffing my face with a burger and laughing about some random drunken nonsense with my best friend.
And most importantly, those nights where my night WAS based on meeting guys is what brought me to enjoy “going out” for what it really is. A night that should be spent laughing and not getting sick.
There’s nothing wrong with going out to meet guys and having fun that way — but there is something very wrong with not valuing how much fun you can have without meeting a guy.
It’s the fun nights spent with our closest friends that we will remember – not the names of all the guys we kissed (take my word for it).
You feel me? So here’s to next weekend – where I WILL go out with my friends – and I won’t worry about the fact that I’ve never made out with three guys in one night (frankly, I’d like to keep that one promise going strong).
TWEET AT ME: @FARRAH_JOON