It smells like sweat and beer...

And other reasons I don't belong at frat parties.


The night before last, my friend and I went to AEΠ for their black out (blackout?) party. Yes, I convinced myself for one glorious hour (the hour it took for me to get dressed, get pretty, and walk there) that I was, in fact, exactly the kind of girl who goes to frat parties. Once a quarter, I get this idea that I've "got what it takes" to stay out partying and drinking all night long.


In case anyone out there is wondering, I do not "have what it takes," nor have I ever "had what it takes."


Sadly, this realization didn't dawn on me until I was in the middle of a room (it usually doesn't) lit only by black lights, with a stomachache from the stench and a headache from the heat. I should have left as soon as I recognized that I was not, in anyway, having a good time.


But, because I'm such a hardhead, I was sure that I could--no, determined to have a good time. That night was a new day... er, you get what I mean.. a dawning of a New Molly. Gone was the girl who stayed up all night in her room writing essays, doing French coursework, and arranging Broadway tunes for her a cappella group.


No.


That isn't what happened.


I wish I could tell you that I stuck it out and ended up having a fabulous time. I wish I could tell you that I met some hot guy and we danced the night away. I wish (oh, how I wish) I could tell you that Friday night really and truly was a turning point--that I became this new person who will continue to party and still manage good grades. 


My night (the night that was supposed to go so swimmingly) went a little something like this:


10:30 Arrive at frat, ready to party-hardy (Do people still say that?)
10:40 Get into party, find dance floor, awkwardly start swaying to to the music (because, really? Do you think I can dance? The answer to that riddle is "Of course not.")
10:57 Drunken frat boy starts to chat me up. 
11:01 Saved by roommate's hot guy friend.
11:02 (Awkwardly... because that's all I know how to be) Attempt to talk to roommate's hot friend.
11:05 Realize I'm failing beyong epic proportions and excuse myself from the conversation with "Um. Yeah. That's uh, cool... and er, yes? Yes. I've got to go to the restroom... You know... bladder calls. Er, so, yup. Later." (That's right, ladies and gentlemen. Smoothness, thy name is Molly).
11:06 Try and find roommate.
11:10 Recognize the act as futile and go stand outside because, let's be honest, it's so hot I can barely breath.
11:20 Roommate becomes aware of the fact that I've been gone for 23 minutes. Finds me outside.
11:21 Complain of a stomachache. 
11:30 Finally break through the mass of people still huddled around the frat's entrance.
11:45 Walk into dorm room, tired and cold because I am wearing a miniskirt, button up and no jacket and it's, well, November.
12:00 Decide I can't sleep and turn my Mac on. I think I'll just finish up that arrangement of "She's in Love" from "The Little Mermaid."


Do I fail at life? Maybe. But did I accomplish something?


You bet I did.