This Post-Grad Life: Grown-Up Sleepovers

When I graduated from college, I told myself that I was never going to behave the way I had for the past four years. Especially since I was no longer going to be attending Thirsty Thursdays, Wasted Wednesdays and Tipsy Tuesdays, and there weren’t horny boys lurking around every corner. Essentially, ‘hooking up,’ in all of its glory, was taking a gracious bow out of my life.  And I accepted it. I was ready to burst into the world of dating, cute little kisses at my doorstep, waking up at 8 am alone and never again embarrassing myself when I walked home wearing a tutu and a Run DMC shirt.
My new mature self truly believed hooking up was for immature people who peaked in college. But not me. I was now an adult and completely grown out of my college meet-a-guy-in-the-corner-and-hump-him-against-a-wall self. Now I’d meet men in grocery stores and in passing on the sidewalk near the cigar shop. (What am I, 50?! Whatever, I saw it.) I had a little fantasy land in my mind where I would meet my knight in shining armor, he would work with numbers, wear a suit and have a passion for life so thick and deep, I would not be able to see the end of it.
I had no time for immature boys who wanted to spoon with me on a futon after we took red headed slut shots together at the bar and talked about Jurassic Park because it was “oh my gaw, so totally our favorite movie in grade school!”  I had no time for the silly guilt I’d feel the next morning until I smoothed it over with my girlfriends. And I had absolutely no tolerance for deciding mid-makeout sesh that I’d rather be eating a tortilla with cheese in my own bed.
But there is a soft twist. A soft “I’m-definitely-fooling-myself” twist (Mmm, anyone else totally want a Wetzel’s Pretzel right now?): I still wanted it.  I still wanted the excitement, the fun, the great stories in the morning. And it felt so wrong.
So I made it right. By no longer referring to my craving as “hooking up.” It’s so vulgar and expired! Post-grad Brittany doesn’t hook up, she has  ‘grown-up sleepovers.’
The problem with a grown-up sleepover is that it looks a lot like a college hook up, only in business casual attire. Whereas the hookup occurred between the hours of 2 and 8am, the sleepover can start as early at 10p.m. on a Friday. (What? Working a full week is exhausting!) And unlike the college hookup where you could opt out of Friday classes to stay in bed and snuggle with your buddy all day, the grown-up hookup comes to an abrupt end when that 6am alarm clock goes off and you gottta get up, get your English muffin and mango butter on, and fly out the door for your early morning staff meeting.
Also, did you know taxi cabs are a little bit harder to get when it’s 10 a.m. on a Sunday morning…in the suburbs?  Did you know that the walk of shame when you aren’t in college is a little more embarrassing, based on the fact the average age of the people around you are six years old or fifty plus? Did you know EVERYBODY goes to church on Sunday when you like to skip back to your apartment in wooden heels and a bedazzled shirt from Express?  Did you know that people are up and jogging at 8am on a Saturday (which used to be your safe time because no college student was ever out of bed before noon)?
Yeah, I didn’t either. But my adult self does.
And you know what else I know? That the only thing worse than waking up next to someone you know you shouldn’t be having sleepovers with is waking up and realizing that your post-grad liver can’t metabolize alcohol like it used to. Not only is morning fun out of the question (it’s hard to get it on with a little man jackhammering on your brain), but it’s hard to look cute and put together when you’re curled up in the fetal position and groaning about purple Gatorade.
But despite all that, at its core, the grown-up sleepover really doesn’t look so different. Post-grads still pick up people in bars, make out in bars, and later avoid one another in bars. There are still ridiculous stories, guys who have no idea what they’re doing, and that moment of fear when you wake up in the morning and have no idea what you’re going to wake up next to. The bottom line is: the only difference between and undergrad and a post-grad is a diploma. And having that little piece of paper doesn’t automatically turn you into some refined, classy, mature adult.
But I can still pretend, right?

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