Ah, the student party. A scene of binge drinking, poor choices and photos that seem hilarious at the time, but in the light of a hungover morning are the cause of further cocoons of shame.
Last night I went to a Velentine’s Day themed party, where each attendee was given a band to match their relationship status: red for in a relationship, orange for it’s complicated, and green for single. I admit to being filled with an equal sense of trepidation and excitement about the whole affair – being single I was concerned about what this party would be like, but curious to meet and get to know new people.
Needless to say, it was the usual affair. People stuck to their cliques, not really talking to other people. The concept was ignored, the kiss cam left unused. And although I did talk to a few new people, I found myself tied to people I already knew, more chemists from past nights out, people I myself could barely remember. By half 1, I was tired of not really feeling like anyone new wanted to talk, and went home with my friends.
I did have a good night. The party was a laugh, and I did meet people, and reconnect with those who I had met in a previous drunken blur from past nights out. There were nice people, fun and the photos will surely be a laugh if not mildly horrific.
I am however, glad that I left when I did. After all, I still like to go by the ‘How I Met Your Mother’ saying – “Nothing good happens after 2am.”