The girls sat around the living room in greasy hair and sweatpants, staring at each other blankly. They knew this day would eventually come, but still, they weren’t prepared for it. In the middle of their seventh consecutive episode of Real Housewives, Samantha laid it on them, as if this were perfectly acceptable hangover conversation.
“I don’t think I’m going to go out tonight,” Sam told the group.
“I have that big exam on Tuesday and I think I’m just going to rest up tonight so I can wake up early tomorrow and spend the whole day at the library.”
Everyone looked around frantically, no one wanting to be the first to speak, until finally, Ashley broke the silence: “Well, what are we supposed to do?”
“You guys can still go out! I’m going to hop in the shower now so it’s free for you when you need to get ready.”
She exited the room, and the rest of the group began to panic. First, who the fuck showers to just sit in their house? Secondly, and more importantly, what were they going to do tonight now that the mom of their group wasn’t going to be there to take after them? Who was going to make sure they didn’t get roofied? Who was going to catch them if they fell off the bar? WHO WAS GOING TO BE ON VAGINA CHECK?! (You know, the girl who makes sure your dress doesn’t ride up so far that your vagina is out? Normal social circles have someone on vagina check, right?)
“Maybe we’ll all just stay in tonight?” Alana suggested, before she was nearly shunned out of existence.
They tossed a few other ideas around. Perhaps they’d hang out with the other clique in their pledge class tonight and use their group mom. A good idea in theory, but the party girl to mom ratio can not exceed five to one. Poor Katie would never be able to handle the likes of the two biggest shit show cliques in the sorority by herself.
Maybe they’d host a Hunger Games style reaping. They’d select a new mom for the night, because obviously fucking nobody was going to volunteer as tribute. But they knew how well it went over when they were selected as “sober” sisters. They’d never last if one of them were assigned to be the mom.
Could they share the responsibilities? Unlikely, as they all intended to be so obliterated by nightfall, that they couldn’t take care of themselves let alone another living being. No. They’d have to *gulp* try to go it alone.
So they did. They got ready as they always did — with four shots and some kind of mixer in their giant cups as they did their hair and makeup, followed by a second round that held three shots and their chosen mixer while they shot the shit, sang, and waited for the stragglers to emerge from their rooms. Then they took two shots as a team, peed as a group, took one more shot, and then left. And then came back after three minutes, because someone forgot her phone. And then they left for real.
And when they got to the bars, oh! How they wreaked havoc. Ashley let a guy do body shots off her. Alana made out with three different guys. Michelle fell twice. Everyone took a bump or two. And yes, there was a lip slip. Of the vaginal variety. Just for a second until a breeze came through, and Kelly tugged her dress back down herself.
The girls got sloppy drunk. They talked to and danced with a fun group of guys who invited them back to smoke pot. And so they did. They stayed up until 4am with those guys hanging out, until Michelle and Ashley retired to the bedrooms with the cutest two of the bunch, while Alana and Kelly snuggled up with each other on the couch.
They woke up again at 6:45 to the sounds of their friends looking for their shoes. Together, the four of them, still obviously drunk, did a walk of shame home by the morning’s light, with new shack shirts on their backs, and new numbers in their phones. They cleared their Snapchat stories before most people had viewed them. They giggled, and waved to passersby, as the only people who were awake at this hour had been just as shameful as they had.
And then they looked at each other and realized something: they’d defeated all the odds. No one died. No one even got hurt. It might even be so that no one got a standards hearing. They’d just had possibly one of the best (albeit sloppiest) nights of their young lives. And they survived it with NO mom.
Wow. This is how the other half lives..