An Introvert’s Worst Nightmare: Weeknight Socializing

To stay in or to go out? That is the question.

by Ashley Wright

Staff Night Owl

Forget vampires or werewolves, if someone were to ask me what my biggest fear is, I
would have no problem coming up with an answer—girls who go out on weeknights.

I want to be clear, I’m in no way judging these ungodly beings. In fact, I’m jealous of them. While my diagnosable FOMO (which is the hip way of saying anxiety), may urge me to take advantage of a Tuesday night with promised cheap drinks and no cover fee, the sad truth is that without a minimum of 10 hours sleep I begin to resemble an extra on The Walking Dead, and no unsuspecting a.m. classmates should be forced to witness that. Which is why I have such a hard time understanding what it is that keeps the other women on my floor from dropping dead at any given moment.

Theoretically, I understand the desire to live every night like the stars of a made-for-TV movie about college kids, but the reality of it is terrifying. The mere power that exudes off of the thigh-high boot clad psychopaths (again, said in envy) as they pass me and my sweatpants at 8 p.m. is enough to overthrow a fairly large and corrupt institution, given the right circumstances. I, personally, find myself exhausted at the very idea of putting on eyeliner, and as I refuse to believe that others have different experiences than my own, my heart goes out to these brave warriors and their handy NYX pens.

While I suppose it’s possible these girls have similarly confused opinions about me, I
highly doubt they take much interest in the fact that the lights are off in my room before it’s even dark outside, as they continue to loudly keep the party alive well after dorm quiet hours. I can only assume that the first few weeks of school have been kind to them in keeping their schedules light, and that as classes progress the noise of slamming doors at 1 a.m. will cease. I have to believe this, because the thought that anyone could maintain such a demanding lifestyle after a month, or god forbid a semester, is enough to make the universe seem even more unbearably chaotic than it already is.

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