At first glance, girls’ night is a celebration of friendship between women, but it is so much more. Yes, it’s a chance for us girls to get together and talk about girl things and hope that your one friend shuts up about her boyfriend for one fucking second. The insinuated “no boys allowed” rule is not suggested, it’s mandatory. Any male to trespass girls’ night shall be subject to punishment by castration (JK, but who can I talk to about making that a law?). Above all else, girls’ night is our chance to get together and be the disgusting creatures that we really are.
Let me be clear, this does not mean we look the grossest we’ve ever been. There’s an even higher standard of beauty when it comes to girls’ night. Guys don’t notice the effort that we put into looking like we do, because they don’t know anything else. Your girl friends know what you really look like, so they can fully appreciate when you get your shit together for once. And, of course, you still want to be the hottest friend. Even if you have no intentions of hooking up with anyone (read: you didn’t shave), it feels good to be the hot one.
Once you’ve spent time and a half on your outfit, makeup, and hair and stared in the mirror for 30 minutes picking out all the things you hate before deciding this is the best it’s going to get, you grab a fat bottle of wine and head to the designated girls’ night pregame spot. It’s usually the largest space, contains the coolest or least amount of roommates, and is the closest to the bars. Bust that door open and greet your besties with your favorite derogatory term for women (hoes, bitches, skanks, etc.). Then and only then can the disgusting night begin.
The integral part of being your most foul self is also being your drunkest self. The stars have aligned to create a night that will ruin your next few days. You sit around and talk while subconsciously chugging a medically unadvised amount of alcohol, knowing that you have several of your friends who are morally obligated to take care of you. There is no reason to hold back. No height of heels, no man of current interest, no pissed off bouncer that can stop you from being so sloppy and embarrassing that your friends have to publicly apologize on your behalf.
While you are drinking yourself into oblivion, this is the perfect time for all of you to vent about the bodily functions that are currently bothering you. Share the last time you pooped. Was it incredibly recent? Has it been a concerning few days? This is the platform in which to discuss. If you have been on WebMD recently, just ask your friends what they think your random assortment of symptoms could be. Then, take turns telling the story about the hardest you’ve ever puked. That time where it came out your mouth and nose so loud it woke up your roommate. Before leaving for the bars, speak in gruesome detail about your vagina, who is going in it and what is coming out of it. Get all of the gross out of your systems before you stumble into your Uber. That would make for an awkward car ride.
The only bars you are allowed to attend during girls’ night must have blasting music and a dance floor. You and your friends have to dance off all of that Franzia you just funneled into your face. It’s time to lay it all out on the dance floor. Everything you have practiced in the mirror, all of the choreography you’ve made up in your head, this is your time to shine. Whip your hair, grind your hips, and alienate everyone else in the bar. Sing every song so loudly and so badly that the DJ has to consciously find songs that you don’t know. Joke’s on him, you know all of them!
After you’ve sweat all your curls out and you’ve accumulated a couple blisters, it’s time to wrangle up your crew and get some food. The messiest food you can find. We’re talking meatball subs with extra stringy cheese and fries with an unreasonable amount of ketchup. Chew with your mouth open and scream about your night because your ears have suffered mild hearing loss from standing next to the speaker. Lick your fingers clean like a fucking lady.
The next morning will undoubtedly be awful. You’ll have the worst hangover of your life, and you’ll spend most of the day in bed pretending you don’t remember sending those super embarrassing texts and dancing like a wet noodle. At least it’ll make for great material for the next girls’ night..
Image via Shutterstock
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Ali Hin
A born and raised Jersey girl, she can always be found covered in sand and pizza sauce. Her personal brand is "that girl." She prefers wine in bottles because she thinks outside of the box. Send fan mail to [email protected] or by smoke signal.
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