I’m starting to get sick of the bars but I’m not sick of going out so I jumped at the chance to go to a house party on Saturday.
I used to go to them all the time freshman year. We would wander the streets and walk into any house with music playing in hopes that it would be a raging party. 78% of the time it was a couple of seniors sitting around who charged us $10 to share 4 Natty Lights between 8 of us. But once in a while it would be a real house party with music blasting and a basement full of strangers.
Sophomore year I got my fake ID, eventually upgraded to a real ID and began spending my nights out going to the bars. I average 1.5 house parties a year now and they’ve become almost mythological in my mind. While my roommates put on tiny dresses and heels for the bars, I acted like “house party” was a really fun theme party. I threw on a grungy gym t-shirt that totally clashed with my sneakers. I debrushed my hair, and smeared make-up on only parts of my face. My friend who had actually been invited to the party told me I was being offensive; I claimed offensive often gets confused with enthusiasm.
In an effort to save money and be super thrifty I made a vodka-oj water bottle and headed out with my dredded-head held high. We arrived at the party and the sophomore bouncers at the door charged us $4 because there was a live band and unlimited beer. My friends grumbled at the price and discussed just going to the bars. But my outfit said house party and there was no way I was going to give up my dream of a sikk movie-like house party (also I paid less since I had my own drink).
Then I walked into the house and remembered why I no longer go to house parties. People of all ages and sizes were crowded into all the rooms and the house had an overall odor of sweat and sloppiness. Everywhere I looked there were beards on underaged people (male and female) and people wearing ill-fitting clothing. I found the couch and plopped down eager to claim my spot. However I chose the wrong couch because apparently it was in the room where the band was playing. All of a sudden I was surrounded by hipsters bouncing to the beats of a screamy-emo-garage band. I curled up into fetal position in hopes that I wouldn’t be trampled.
Before I could say converse with holes in them, my friend tapped me on the shoulder and told me he wanted to leave. I breathed out a sigh of relief and we headed out. On the way home (it was totally out of the way) we grabbed pizza and ice cream and then sat on his couch for two hours watching Never Been Kissed. Even though the house party wasn’t everything I dreamed it would be, and even though Never Been Kissed is the most unrealistic movie of 1999, I somehow still had a great night and I can confidently say that I have officially gone to my last house party of college.