I Don’t Like Getting Drunk, Bro

Friday night parties are great for getting buzzed and chillaxing (yes, I said it) with your friends as you listen to 60’s music, all the while hoping to get laid. It’s not that great if you’re surrounded by super drunk assholes who use a crowd to touch you inappropriately. Hence last Friday.

Who has been begging me to take him to a college party? And who is majorly underage? Who thought I was the nerdiest person ever until I got to college? My 17-year-old brother. So I relented. It might have been a mistake.

I will tell you why.

The night was not so young when we departed from my all-girls dorm to go into the night. We were supposed to meet my friend Zoe at a house behind Ross Hall. We approached the door.

“I’m sorry, it’s way too crowded. Too much people. You have to leave,” said the asshole at the door. He physically blocked us from entering. However, the group of girls behind us, giggling maniacally, were never stopped. (I’m told later that I yelled, “Yeah, right, the party’s closed, ya fucking dickwad!” But that could have been an exaggeration.)

Shortly later, Zoe came for us. She was already a little buzzed. “Get in here!” She tried to pull me through the door, but was immediately caught in an argument with the asshole. (“Who do you know to get in?”) Finally, she just pulled us in.

The party was packed. Imagine the crowd of a nice day at the zoo, except it has the disposition of wild animals. Music was blaring, people were dancing on chairs and (possibly) tables, and empty containers of every type of alcohol possible were strewn over various surfaces.

My brother grinned like his birthday was here. In the first 10 minutes, Zoe had Nate chugging an ambiguous mixture of alcohol (Sprite© and vodka?) and dancing in a basement of bad music and horny girls. As you know from A Wedding and No Funeral, my brother is going through a tough time. I didn’t want to promote a casual hookup or alcohol to solve his problems.

But I was going through some things as well. The guy I was ‘seeing’–Brad–hadn’t texted me for almost two days. And it wouldn’t be so worrisome if he hadn’t been texting me all week. And he hadn’t gone home on Thursday, where his recovering alcoholic of a father also resided.

 

This was over a span of 10 hours or so. I'm not clingy. I swear.
This was over a span of 10 hours or so. I’m not clingy. I swear.

Soooo….Yeah. I felt like my potential relationship was crumbling from underneath me. I asked several people if they’d heard from him, and they all said no.

The party soon got boring, and we decided to leave after an hour and several men brushing their hand over my backside. ‘Accidentally.’ I wanted to show Nate a better example of a party, all the while trying to find this guy.

When we arrived at the door of the second house, a long line of frat boys in basketball jerseys were unceremoniously exiting.

“The cops told us to clear out. Party’s over.”

But a girl my brother had just met 20 minutes ago was undeterred. They snuck in the backdoor, and I followed.

God, looking back, I wish we’d never left the first one. This was a whole nother level of stupid, one I had no patience for. I ended up sitting on a couch and having a fruitless conversation with ‘Lance,’ who was so sloshed he asked me where I lived twice. At one point, he said, “You think you’re so much better than me cause your more sober. Well, screw you, screw you.” I excused myself when his hand, which had continually been tugging me towards him, travelled up to lazily squeeze my breasts.

He came up to me soon after I left.

“Why did you leave?”

“You were kind of touching my boobs.” I wasn’t even mad.

He was outraged. “You think I did that on purpose?”

“Um, yeah.”

Then comes the scary part–he started yelling at me, yelling, “ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME?” over and over again. Needless to say, we got the fuck out of there.

Now I am afraid. I am afraid I gave the wrong impression to my brother about what college is all about. College isn’t about partying and drinking and screwing around. It’s about having wonderful experiences. And getting a degree to justify paying thousands of dollars to study instead of sleep. 

No. Next time, I will be more responsible. I will only consume steady amounts of alcohol alone.

 

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