Chronicles of an Ex party girl

I used to be the girl who loved a good time; free booze, cute boys, nice clothes, hot shoes and the best music.

To be a party girl, you have to hang around the ‘correct crowd’, fabulously hot and well socially connected girls. They had to have a sense of style, the correct look and socially acceptable (connections to the right party people).

It didn’t matter who threw the party as long as someone in the ‘crowd’ knew the name of the party person or a person who knew the person who threw the party…or not.

My party life started when I joined university. The bazaar’s don’t count, they were not my kind of thing. They felt like those frat boys get together’s that they showed in those dingy college movies. (Many high school looking boys, eating smoked sausages, drinking lots of brown bottled beer that was on promotion).

So not cool…                                                                                                              

But my initiation was at the end of the week that is Thursday, the day when all partying begins for the average campus babe. So my girls and I hit the clubs n all; jeans and pumps we ambushed steak out.

The crowd was overwhelming… rock night! From the entrance to the bar involved elbow pushing and squeezing between sweaty bodies. We just had to relocate next door- cheese bar. Our dignity went … I don’t know where.

The music mama mia, the boys oh yah… the booze who knows where it came from

Next thing I knew, all the girls and I were entering this Noah and heading to Ange noir or was it silk club, I never knew the difference then. The transport, entrance fee and drinks were being paid for by this besotted man.                                                                                                        Besotted over whom? I didn’t give a damn as long as at the end of the night we were back at our hall of residence safely.

The thing I loved most about being a party girl was the dressing up, the dancing and the next day’s teasing amongst each other. The thrill you got from partying was almost compensation for the hangovers but not quite.

Anyhow this party girl life style had unspoken codes; you had to have the one who never got high to make sure no one is taken advantage of. There had to be the talker; who knew which besotted man had transportation to take us back to our Hall.

There was the ‘IT’ girl; who got the drinks for all of us. There had to be the dancer; the one who kept all the besotted men amused. There was the Tough one; when things were heading south she stepped in.

These were codes de facto not de jure. The partying life was fun and fabulous but it had was a buddy system in which no buddy had to be far from the other for it work.

                                    Wink

                            An ex party gal