When Does Being A Party Girl Become A Problem?
I’ve been drinking since I was 15. Not in the hiding liquor in my closet, swilling it alone kind of way, but in the “going out,” pre-gaming, grimy teen club, house party, sneaking into bars before my time, kind of way — and is one necessarily far superior?
I don’t remember my first drink, but I do remember the first time I was really and truly blotto. I was way underage, and snuck Green Apple Smirnoff into my bedroom, which my friends and I paired with Jones Green Apple Soda. (Sorry, Jones, I feel sure that’s not what your delicious beverages are meant for, and thinking of said pairing now makes me want to puke.)
My friends and I were dressed in too-tight, too-low spandex dresses that only high schoolers can get away with wearing (mostly because anyone who’s over the age of 15 values their ability to breathe comfortably, which at the time we felt sure was overrated). We stumbled onto the sticky south Florida dance floor of a teen club, grinding into sketchy Smirnoff oblivion.
I vividly remember the first time I threw up from drinking. (I guess it’s true what they say — you never forget your first.) After a particularly raucous house party, at least by suburban standards, full of sips of Southern Comfort straight from the plastic bottle (pure elegance) chased with Solo cups full of Sprite and vodka (imagine ordering one at an upscale bar, forcing a “mixologist” to craft this cocktail), I slipped out of my clothes and into the jacuzzi. I felt rebellious and wild and like I was doing something that made me the main character in a B-list teen movie.
In high school I wasn’t exactly sitting pretty at the “popular table,” but at night I could become someone else entirely with the help of alcohol. I was Rachel Leigh Cook, only I kept my glasses on. I felt like I was the red dress scene after a mixed drink or three. No more shyness and awkwardness making me overthink everything. Suddenly boys liked me, and I could actually talk to them. I could dance without worrying where, exactly, my limbs were headed. I could relax. Back in the day, cellphones cost serious money and texting 24/7 on your Sidekick wasn’t an option when you felt out-of-place at a party. So, I turned to my red Solo cup instead.
Even in college, “going out” was how you were deemed worthy of “cool girl” status. I remember my awkward week of sorority rush, palms sweating, heart racing, when they casually asked what fraternity parties you went to, giddy on punch that was full of Diesel and smelled like bad decisions and the Bug Juice of your youth. It was as if drinking made you one of them — impossibly put together and somehow able to walk in heels.
Now, it’s 10 years later, and I can’t help but wonder when partying becomes a problem. As I rapidly approach the closer-to-30 side of my twenties (as my family keeps reminding me, as if they can hear my biological clock louder than I do), I know that going out constantly doesn’t give me the same cool girl vibes I thought it brought when I was in my teens. I don’t want to be throwing up in my thirties, cursing last night and wishing I didn’t have that one last drink, still using it as a crutch to erase the shyness that I’ve all but banished.
At the same time, I like “going out,” only not in the same way. I don’t exactly buy “going out” clothes anymore, because the thought of buying Forever 21 sequins that plunge uncomfortably low and break and tear after one wear gives me hives. But while other girls search for boyfriends to binge watch Netflix with, I’m perfectly content throwing back cocktails and dancing until I’m as gone as my makeup.
Unfortunately, I still have the same penchant for sugary sweet drinks (it all started with that potent mix of Sprite and vodka), which leads to hangovers from hell, and I don’t always manage to suck down water at the same speed I’m downing cocktails, even though as an adult I finally get the importance of staying hydrated.
After too many years of dancing on raised surfaces, I gave up tequila because I realized that it quite literally made me crazy, and with my acid reflux as a mixer it never had pretty results. I manage to usually have a bagel on hand, and try to stick to the same type of alcohol, but sometimes my blotto self decides that I just have to have that Fireball shot coming my way.
Adulthood was always something that loomed in the distance, promising moderation. The reality is that Jack Daniels is still my go to guy, and twentysomething isn’t quite as adult as I was led to believe.
It seems that when people write about partying, they either glorify it a la Cat Marnell, or it’s a drinking problem. There’s no in-between, where it’s seen as normal, and fun — as long as it doesn’t start the winding descent into excess, which it too easily does (just ask Cat). Songs about drinking come closer to falling somewhere in-between, but there’s less straight talk and more of a focus on sobriety. Just search “Sober” on Spotify and you’ll find tracks by everyone from Niykee Heaton to Little Big Town.
Even “party girl” sounds uncool after you can legally drink. When I think of a party girl, I think of that girl who wears heels on the subway. You know the one — she’s waiting outside of a frozen bar in the Meatpacking district that was popular in 2011, hoping that the bouncer will let her in, ready to pay for overpriced cocktails and make a quick trip to the bathroom for more than a fresh coat of lipstick. I’ve been that girl, and it’s fun and exciting and different — but for how long? No one wants to be stumbling on the subway alone because everyone else has settled down.
While I’ve definitely slowed down because drinking like you’re 21 is something only someone under 21 can do, I’m not quite sure if I’m completely ready to stop. I also don’t know if going out always means drinking too much, which is unacceptable as an actual adult. If I should start Hingeing until I find someone to binge watch, instead of binge drink, with me. If the “I’m fine,” that I text my friends after a particularly rough night out is a little white lie I’m telling them — and myself.
