5. Going Home With A Stranger
Sure, it’s not exactly ideal to wake up next to someone you barely remember meeting — your reputation is fleeting with each additional notch on your bedpost, and I suppose there’s the whole morality issue if you care about that, but at the end of the day, a complete stranger is the best person to accidentally sleep with. Nine out of ten
socialites scientists agree that everybody should have a one-night stand at least once (feel free to put emphasis on “at least” if you’re particularly sexually liberal). I don’t think it’s right for everyone, but if it was right for you last night, there’s no use feeling guilty about it. For starters, you got laid, so this should already be a positive experience. Additionally, he’s not the guy who’s repeatedly been an asshole to you, nor your ex-boyfriend, nor your best guy friend whom you’re afraid to ruin your relationship with — so in terms of being fucked, physically, you were, but emotionally, you weren’t, so you’re basically coming out on top, here (or on bottom, whichever you prefer). If, however, you’re concerned with your reputation, keep in mind this one little thing: if you don’t tell anybody, nobody will know. He barely even remembers your name, so he literally can’t go around your social circle to put you on blast. It’s basically like it never happened at all. Moving on.
4. Text-Bombing A Boy
I’m inclined to say that repeatedly texting a guy who then decides to hook up with you is even worse than repeatedly texting a guy who then decides not to hook up with you. At least if you end up with him, you know you haven’t embarrassed yourself to the point where you’ve rendered yourself undesirable. If he doesn’t “come overrrrrrrr” when you ask him to, you have to deal with the feeling of rejection in addition to the feeling of embarrassment. You feel (and potentially look) like a psychopath, but keep in mind this one saving grace: every girl in the world has drunkenly texted a guy too many times, and if he hasn’t been the victim of that by now, the problem is him, not you. I was recently on the receiving end of a text bomb that was twenty messages long, and as the receiver of the messages, I honestly didn’t really dwell on it after the fact. I’m assuming guys don’t mull over it much either. Just delete your messages in the morning before reading them, and that guilty “I can’t believe I said that” feeling won’t exist, because no one brave enough to tell you will ever let you know what they said.
3. Taking to Social Media
The only worse way to satisfy the bizarre need you have to expressly state your every drunken thought by means of your phone than texting a boy is taking to social media. Sure it’s no good to drunkenly tell a boy you secretly love him, but drunkenly making him your Facebook status because the search bar is too close to the status update is much, much worse. Now everyone you kind of knew in your eighth grade home ec. class knows what’s on your mind: you’re drunk, lonely, and out of batteries. Not exactly the most flattering way to reconnect. Luckily you unleashed your thoughts onto the world wide life-ruining web on a Saturday night, and everyone who matters was also drunk. People tend to be too busy trying to remember how they made an ass of themselves the night before to remember how you made an ass of you. Delete the evidence during your absurd 6:00AM dehydrated wakeup, and people will probably be too preoccupied with their self-absorption to remember that you accidentally Instagrammed a picture of yourself with your tongue at the apex of a peace sign the night before.
2. Causing A Scene
This might seem like the end of the world, but really, it’s just the end of your night. I have been one to cause many a drunken scene. I’ve thrown the occasional bitch fit because some idiot confused me for a freshman, Friday Cryday became a pretty regular thing when I was in the depths of despair my senior year, and I’m not saying I’ve ever flashed someone on Main Street, but I have. Just once. I understand that most people find it difficult to recover from public displays of jackassery, but the consequences of your actions don’t last as long as you’d think. The most obvious reason is that most of the people who saw you humiliate yourself won’t be able to pick you out of a lineup two days from now. There’s no reason to be embarrassed in front of people who won’t remember you. Even if they’ve procured some photographic or videographic evidence of your evening, unless you become super famous one day, no one will ever care to find it. As far as the people who do know you, you’re just 7 days and 8 shots away from somebody else becoming “Asshole of the Week” (it’s like sister of the week, for sororities who don’t give a shit). Just wait it out, and you’ll be old news in no time.
Nothing makes me feel more guilty than ruining my week of systematic starvation via double bacon cheeseburger with a side of macaroni and cheese at the campus diner. You just barely used the elliptical enough all week to burn off the 33 shots you are going to take over the course of the weekend, and you really can’t afford this little setback. You wake up with a pit in your stomach and the full knowledge that you are not going to lose 6 pounds by tomorrow if you keep this type of thing up. You’ve probably already gained five pounds since high school, and everyone knows if your body changes at all after your sixteenth birthday, you’re pretty much useless, so you can NOT gain anymore. Regardless, no matter how much you grab at your belly skin and complain that you hate your body, you’re not actually fat. Just like one day of starvation doesn’t help you permanently lose, one night of over-indulgence won’t cause you to permanently gain. Even if you semi-regularly accidentally forget to care about your diet at 3:00AM, it’s not like boys are going to want to date you in college anyway, so you might as well enjoy yourself every now, then follow in the footsteps of every alumna ever, and lose the ten pounds post-grad, when your life is boring as shit anyway.