[It doesn’t matter what school you go to, what state it is in, how big it is, whether it is public or private, all girls or coed…there are experiences that all college students share.
No matter how crazy you think your personal situation is, it is not just you. So, let’s bring it all out in the open. Right here. Because you are not alone - we’ve all been there before.]
Oh what a night.
From the pre-party to the bar to waking up next to that that kid from your Psych lecture, it was a good one. A great one. A night that is meant to be shared. A night that is meant to be remembered. A night that requires your roommates’ pictures to help in the remembering.
But, man do you feel like hell this morning. You wake up, throw on some sweats (and throw the boy out), and head down to the kitchen for a much-needed bottle of Gatorade. It’s early – you never can sleep in after a long night of drinking – so you tip toe through the house.
When you stumble down the steps, though, you hear some commotion in the kitchen. You round the stairs and smack into 5 of your roommates, coffee and toast in hand, waiting for you on the couch. Apparently they can’t sleep in either.
One of the girls hands you a mug of coffee. Oh sweet bliss.
Everyone is still wearing their makeup from the night before, which only complements the giant black circles under their eyes. As you sit down and start sipping on your coffee, your 6th roommate walks into the house, still wearing her tube top and trouser jeans from the night before. Her heels are in her hand. Her neck is covered in hickeys.
You notice a pile of cameras on the table. Next to them, empty shot glasses and dried up lime wedges. The thought of tequila shots sends shivers down your spine as you flash back to the night before.
“So….” One of your roommate’s looks to you for your story. And so it begins.
You regale your roommates with tales of your late night adventures: how you started talking to the boy, the line you used to get him to come home with you (“I got some new sheets…”), and how good (or bad) his skills were in the bedroom. You give them every little detail – the kind of stuff you can only share with these girls – in between much needed gulps of coffee.
Then it’s your roommate’s turn to share her stories. And then the next.
You all pass the cameras around, filling in the gaps and holes of the evening. You laugh at the 1,276 selfies you took, the videos that you thought were pictures and the gross guys that tried hitting on everyone at the bar. You compare late-night eating horror stories (“So that’s where all my cream cheese went??”), and make fun of the late-comer who is still wearing her bar outfit.
“I mean, really, who the hell still gives hickeys?!”
Before you know it, it is 3pm, you are all still sitting around in your PJs, and you know way more about some random dude’s kissing abilities than you ever thought you should. You order in some Jimmy Johns or pizza or greasy Chinese and spend the rest of the day chilling on the couch until it’s time to get up, get ready and do it all again.
Yeah, we’ve all been there. The morning-after recap is the best.