November 7, 2008

Some Fridays I'd rather be with Super Mario than Mario the drunkard.

Friday nights for a college student should be the highlight of their week, if not a close second to Saturdays. The typical college student should be "getting their drink on" with mutual peers happily attempting to forget the tedious nature of school work they just finished a week of and will have to pick up again the following Monday for another week (rinse, repeat). They flock to Dante's for $3 neon colored jello shots or, heaven forbid their week was horrendous enough for this, buy cheap drinks at Earl's.

For all intense and purposes, let's assume that the typical college student is at least 21, and therefore able to enter bars.

So staying home on a Friday night equates to near launching of the failboat, or so we've led each other to believe. Not being able to find anyone to go out with conveys your sadly small social circle. Choosing to stay in instead of partying conveys that maybe that stick can't go any further. Or you could be That Guy and fly the bars solo harassing the already well established circles of Girls Who Want You To Go Away and the Guys That Will Punch You If You Don't Leave The Girls Alone.

Please don't be That Guy, we don't like you.

So where does that leave me? Blogging about staying in on a Friday night on a Friday night probably speaks louder for me than I'm able to scribe, but let's roll with it for a moment.

I like to think I'm a perfectly socially capable individual that enjoys the occasional (okay, maybe many) drink and conversation applicable to the situation at hand. But my social circle is also limited, and whether this is due to have only spent a year in Seattle thus far or because I'm simply choosy to whom I associate myself with, well, I wouldn't know. And yet for all I know about myself, I can't shrug the little nagging voice asking me what the fuck I'm still doing at home on a Friday night punching Solid Snake's face in with Sonic via Brawl?

So this raises the question, is staying in a sign of social ineptness in a certain form, or is it simply a manifestation of the expectations we project on each other?

Because really, how impressive is it that you spend every weekend playing beer pong and buying $8 mixers for girls you'll probably never see again (or girls, already double fisting with the line of creepy guys increasing)? That's what I thought.

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