Growing up.

Drinking and texting. Two things that should NEVER be done together. Never, for no reason and under no circumstance. Not only will you regret it the following morning, but will also be used as ammunition in years to come. Sadly last night I became a victim to this awful endeavour. In doing so I proceeded to tell a close friend I felt I was in a banana boat, that I loved bananas and I didn’t understand why banana boats were not actually made from bananas!
Yes, in short I had lost it (or was having a serious Potassium withdrawal.) Reading my sent box this morning was humiliating. Think the best bit was discovering not only did I try to justify eating a banana boat; I was also discussing future prospects of an entire edible theme park. Maybe it’s best to stay off the wine for a bit?!
This now brings me to an even scarier topic, than your sent box on a night out. Student nights.
Remember when your 17, your sneaking into clubs and bars, your overly confident because everyone else is twice your age and you talked your way in without ID. Well the tables have now turned and in a horrific way.
On Monday night my friend Sam and I hit Guildford. The plan was go to a few bars and then head to Harpers, the main student hot spot on a Monday night. The only difference being this time we went for a meal first and were ordering glasses of wine, as opposed to VK’s and various other ‘Kiddie drinks’. It wasn’t until on the dance floor, half a glass of Pino in my hand (I had sophisticatedly managed to pour the other half over the floor, whilst doing some kind of jiggly-hop to Bryan Adams, Summer of 69) that I suddenly felt out of place.
It was Sam who made the first comments “Have you seen what those girls are wearing? Aren’t they cold? Do they look young to you?” and she was right. Suddenly glancing round the room, we were the oldest girls and by a long shot.
What happened to student nights? We may be going into our third year of Uni, but we’re still students. Scantily clad girls should be at home, drinking Panda Pops or sitting on BEBO. Not parading round Town, assets flying in all directions and making us feel old.
So maybe Mr. big green bug has bitten me, but it seems Student nights out are slowly becoming a thing of the past. We may soon have to face the music and admit we’re growing up.