[Meet Margaret, a freshman at Yale. We've been checking in with her every week to see what she's doing, who she's meeting, and what new college surprises she's tackling (or freaking out about) as she embarks on the journey we call college. Or as I like to call it, the best thing since dark chocolate Reese's Peanut Butter cups.]
So I’m 3 weeks into my bright college years, and in between realizing that I have Spanish homework to do at 1 in the morning and figuring out how trash piles up so quickly when clearly I took out the garbage like, a day ago, there are plenty of Solo cups and pregaming parties to keep my thoughts occupied.
In the past year, I passed through the rookie stage of drinking. You know, getting over the fact that drinking isn’t such a big deal after all (I know some may beg to differ, which I totally respect, but step off for a sec, darlings) and then advancing into classic teen movie, drink up mode. It was like I was Cady Heron (a la Mean Girls) being de-innocentized, except minus The Plastics. There were chill house parties, high-ish quality alcohol bought by nice older siblings, and then classic senior year, I-don’t-give-a-f**k debauchery. Getting to a stage of happy drunk was part of the whirlwind of senior year and really, part of the fun. But I was good about it – no blacking out and never even vomiting.
So coming to college, I was under the impression that it would be the same, but something about drinking here just doesn’t feel settling to me. The glowy halo of happiness that surrounded drinking just totally disappeared.
I know, totally weird, right? Because, like, obviously drinking is much simpler here. There aren’t quite as many repercussions when you get caught, alcohol is pretty much readily available, and the number of boys who you would willingly drunkenly hook-up with has gone through the freakin’ roof. Read More »