Let’s put it out there, shall we? I hate clubbing. Hate it. And you know what – I hate alcohol too. There, I’ve said it. I know uni’s the time for big nights out, but I cannot for the life of me understand the appeal. Why such hatred? The music is hideously loud (and mostly awful), it’s stuffy, seemingly full of persistent perverts, the fancy dress themes are dreadful (nympho nurses, anyone?), and my dancing looks like I’m directing traffic. And of course clubs and drinking go together. I hate the taste, the price, the way it makes people think it’s hilarious to wake up with a migraine and covered in sick. Plus the oh-so-hallowed drunk student stereotype…why promote such a self-degrading image?
I recall with horror my first and only ‘night out’; needless to say, it was grim. Maybe because I was back home in Norfolk, a county full of fields and tractors. Or maybe because in every club, where I had to scream at my friends over the music, we were surrounded by orange-faced, barely-dressed girls, and self-professed Casanovas (i.e. louts from the farming college) kept trying to ‘work their magic’. Here, in Nottingham, it’s inescapable – I hear about “pre-drinks”, “lashes” and “coming home absolutely Jeremy Kyled” daily. And each time, I die a little more inside.
The worst thing, far worse than all these atrocities, is this: why do I feel shunned for not going out like this? Why, when I say I don’t drink or club, do I feel my companion looking at me like I’ve just announced I’m a helicopter? The partying side of student life is so highly publicised, you’d be hard pressed not to feel that it’s what you have to do.
Without my societies, I’d be curled up in a corner every night grumbling; thank heavens for them. And whatever happened to a good old-fashioned night in? For me, there’s nothing better than baked goods and a trashy makeover show. And an hour of Gok Wan calling me “girlfriend” and showing me dresses is infinitely better than six hours of ear-bursting music I can’t even dance to.