Leap Day is the last day of the Before Times I remember vividly. I drove to the mall to pick up something at Sephora. A huge crowd of families had gathered for an athletic demonstration by former American Ninja Warrior contestants. In Nordstrom, I inhaled a lemon and mint-scented candle that was supposed to remind me of the Amalfi coast. I browsed leather wallets, touching the oversized zippers and snapping the coin pockets closed.
On the way home, I thought, for the thousandth time, I should really cut back on drinking. I thought this even as I pulled into the liquor store parking lot and went inside to buy a bottle of white, a bottle of red, and a bottle of peppermint Schnapps (novelty!).
I drank two glasses of white wine on Saturday night and called my fiancé, who was working a convention in Chicago.
“Is attendance down?” I asked. I’d been following news of a virus in suburban Seattle.
“It’s actually the highest attendance we’ve ever had,” he said.
This seemed vaguely disturbing, so I made hot chocolate with a shot of Schnapps.
I should really cut back, I thought again. My drinking always seemed like a problem for Future Me to solve. Just thinking about dealing with it was stressful enough to justify a little treat for Present Me.
Be Here Now.
Be Here Now with Your Wine.
I have never been a binge drinker. I don’t get hangovers. I won’t regale you with wild drunken tales because I don’t have any. My habit is two glasses of wine a night. I have tried to be a one-glass-of-wine-with-dinner person, but I like to have a glass while I cook, and then one becomes a setup for the punchline of two. Occasionally, two is enough to shut up my inner disciplinarian and I can say what the hell, and have a third, which puts me right to sleep, and then I get to enjoy being awake from 2 to 4am, scrolling Twitter and hating myself, swearing this will never happen again, this time I will learn. You might call this “a pattern.” Or the definition of stupidity: doing the same thing over and over, expecting different results.
During this period I read dozens of addiction memoirs. I underlined sentences that made me feel seen, but also superior: I wasn’t that bad. I wasn’t drinking my breakfast; I wasn’t drinking secretly; I wasn’t blacking out. I read stories of other writers’ rock bottoms to prove to myself I didn’t have a problem, or at least no problem I couldn’t solve by harnessing more discipline and willpower. I resisted sobriety in the same way I politely declined pamphlets from Jehovah’s Witnesses in the subway. The believers had their religion—I had mine.
I believed I had two choices: go to AA (which I’d read a lot about in my alcoholism memoirs) or keep drinking to cover up the stress of wishing I could drink less. I was afraid of getting sober. I know sober people—they are fun and fascinating and creative, my beloved friends. They are also sober for life. It was the level of commitment that freaked me out. I was also freaked out by the idea of admitting I was powerless over alcohol and that my life had become unmanageable. I don’t like to admit I’m powerless over anything. And my life was just fine, thank you (except for the, uh, secret shame that showed up at 4am).
Then I heard about Annie Grace, a writer offering a 30-day “alcohol-free challenge to interrupt your habits and help you take control.” When I read this, it was like an arrow aimed straight at my anxiety and my excuses: just 30 days, I could do that! A “challenge”? As an overachiever, I love challenges! My habits definitely needed an interruption. I would try any program that offered a path to regain control.
On Sunday, March 1st, I finished the bottle of white. On Monday, I began my 30 days.
Grace’s method is based around resolving the conflict between our unconscious beliefs (such as alcohol relieves stress) and our desires (I want to drink less). When I started following her exercises, I realized that drinking actually added more stress to my life, because I was constantly calculating how much I would have, setting rules around my drinking, and then beating myself up when my willpower failed.
“If alcohol truly relaxed us,” Grace writes, “wouldn’t we need less of it over time?”
As soon as I stopped drinking wine, I started sleeping better. When I got enough sleep, I noticed I didn’t crave so much carbs and cheese (my two favorite food groups). My mood improved; I wasn’t compulsively replaying things I’d said or written in an email, berating myself for stupid questions or awkward comments. I could stay up later to watch movies with my partner because I was no longer nodding off on the couch from the alcohol.
Day 11 is when the miracle happened: I wrote a poem for the first time in nearly a decade. Reading and writing poetry had been my creative outlet since I was a teenager, but somewhere in my twenties I lost it. I thought I had just grown out of that phase, or maybe my life had stabilized so much (no more dating drama) that I no longer had any material for poems. The gift of poetry on my 11th day of sobriety felt like a chandelier turned on in a haunted ballroom in my brain that no one had danced in in years.
A week later, the governor of my state, Connecticut, issued a stay at home order. By April, the entirety of my social life was unfolding on Twitter. My alcohol-free experiment coincided with drinking becoming one of the few fun things you could do inside your own home.
“Remember how everyone was gonna stop drinking?” one woman tweeted. Ha ha! “It seems wine o’clock might need to be moved to 9am,” another said. The “quarantini” was born and a grandma in New Jersey went viral on TikTok for giving it a shake shake shake! On my daily walk around the cul de sac, I listened to a podcast that recommended I relax by watching a video of Ina Garten make a pitcher of Cosmos and then pour it into a single-serve martini glass the size of her head. If I’ve been saving a bottle of wine or champagne for a special occasion, the hosts suggested I drink it now—why wait?
Time for a quarantiniii🍸😷
@AviationGin @vancityreynolds pic.twitter.com/l11ZWavFfg— marilyn starkloff (@MStarkloff) March 12, 2020
By this point, I had become very sensitive to the kind of messages our culture sends about alcohol, especially to women: you’ve had a long day, you deserve it! It’s not drinking alone if the kids are home! Wine is good for you!
I’d spent the past three years researching and writing my novel Self Care, which satirizes the wellness industry. I see “wellness” as diet culture re-branded. Among my millennial feminist peers, it’s taboo to talk about dieting: how much weight you want to lose, how much weight you have lost, how many calories are in a cup of grapes. Every body is a bikini body—just put a bikini on it! But there is no taboo against talking about drinking, or joking about overdoing it. If your tolerance is so high you can keep up with the boys, yasssss queen!
How could I judge people for drinking more during the pandemic? Let’s be real: if I hadn’t committed to my experiment before the stay at home order, I likely would have graduated from white wine to bourbon cocktails.
Oh, did I mention that the main character of Self Care has a drinking problem? (My book editor didn’t think her drinking problem was obvious enough—it was based on my own drinking—so I ramped it up in my next draft.)
I made it to Day 30 and decided to try for another 30 and then another. Ultimately, I went 104 days without drinking alcohol. I wrote 34 poems.
Ironically, I started drinking wine again for the same reason I had avoided abstaining in the first place: because I felt pressured to commit for life. I didn’t want “sober” to become my identity. After 104 days, I felt proud of myself for committing to the experiment and for closely examining, and shifting, my relationship with alcohol. If you had asked me on January 1st if I could go 100 days without drinking a glass of wine, I would have told you the odds were about as likely as me swimming across the English Channel.
After a few weeks of falling back on old habits during the busy time of my novel launch, I am now in a place where I have wine on weekends, and pineapple kombucha on school nights.
I know many women who are committed to a life without alcohol, and on Instagram I cheer on their sobriety milestones. On Instagram, you’ll also find a lot of brands (and influencers) selling programs and products to cleanse, detoxify, and purify your diet/skin/workout/scalp/gut/sleep/life. Underlying all this marketing is the uncomfortable truth that many of us feel bad on a daily basis. We feel toxic. Our bodies and brains are overwhelmed by the stress of the pandemic, financial precarity, racial injustice, political inaction, frustrations over schooling this fall, and uncertainty about the future.
I’m not here to tell you what you should or shouldn’t drink right now to manage your stress. I don’t have a program to sell you or a fancy elixir with adaptogens (though I do believe any beverage can be elevated by adding maraschino cherries). I’ve lived online long enough to become jaded and cynical about influencer culture and the rarefied echelons of the wellness industry that sell expensive lifestyle upgrades to the class of Americans that is privileged enough to afford the basics.
I decided to run an experiment to better understand my dependence on alcohol only after I reached the limit of cognitive dissonance I could tolerate. I was tired of thinking one thing and doing another. I was tired of feeling out of control and like I was failing my best intentions. Only you know what cobwebs decorate the dark, echoing ballroom of your mind. No influencer can tell you why you’ve been avoiding that lonely room. Only you can hear the song your body plays when it’s trying to tell you what it needs.
Images: Estrada Anton / Shutterstock.com; leighstein / Instagram; @MStarkloff / Twitter
Spiked seltzers are the drink of summer, whether we are having a summer or not. Ever since they burst onto the scene, people have been obsessed with them. And for good reason: they taste amazing, are not super high in calories, and are easy to chug in rapid succession. While I know what your favorite flavor actually says about you is that you bought the variety pack and the can you’re drinking was the first one you reached for in the box, I think it can go a little deeper. Just like your horoscope, your preferred White Claw flavor could reveal some latent personality traits that you never wanted to admit to yourself. Or this could be a totally made-up thought exercise I did for fun. I guess only you can decide, based on whether you agree with what I wrote about your flavor of choice!
All the 70 Calorie Ones
I haven’t tried any of these, and I’m looping them all in together because the idea is the same. If you are seriously the type of person who is so preoccupied with counting calories that you’re going out of your way to shave 30 of them off of your alcohol, I’m going to also venture that you’re the person posting their at-home workouts on Instagram. Even worse, you’re not even improvising by using wine bottles as free weights. No, you already had a full rack of free weights on deck and enough resistance bands to supply a gym. Chill the f*ck out—drinking 100-calorie hard seltzers isn’t going to sabotage your physique. You might want to turn your attention to the pizza you drunkenly inhaled after chugging six of these bad boys.
Pure
I’m sorry, if you’re drinking plain White Claw, you are a serial killer. The whole point of these is that they kind of taste like fun, flavored seltzer, but they also get you drunk. You just took the fun out of it, and not even in a way that makes sense. If you want to get drunk off plain seltzer, they already have that, and it’s called a vodka soda. Only someone who literally enjoys murder would want to sip a semi-flat soda that only just gets you buzzed.
Black Cherry
Black Cherry is the elite of White Claw flavors, simply because it tastes good, and speaking from experience (last week), I could drink an entire case without getting sick of it. What makes Black Cherry so good is that unlike some of the other flavors (lookin’ at you, “Natural” Lime), it doesn’t taste like I’m being smacked in the face with artificial cherries created in a lab. Like, I don’t pick up a can of boozy seltzer expecting to drink freshly squeezed cherry juice, but I expect some resemblance to the real thing. So, the Black Cherry drinker is also real af, because real recognize real. Black Cherry doesn’t mince words, she calls people out if they’re acting foolish (she’s been known to be called an asshole at times for her bluntness). She doesn’t Facetune, not even to make her teeth whiter. When she skips a workout to eat pasta on her couch, you’ll know about it. When she posts a thirst trap, she captions it, “look how good my boobs look.”
Mango
The mango-drinking bitch is always on a vacation, if not literally, then in her mind. She’s the one who’s posting thirst traps from her parents’ backyard. When she emerges from quarantine, the only skill she will have mastered is her camera’s self-timer and which angles she can sit in that still show off her butt. She’s the only person you know who will have worn a bathing suit this entire summer.
Natural Lime
It’s not enough to just be lime—no, this has to be Natural Lime. But there’s nothing natural about drinking a malt beverage disguised as water with fruit. If you swear by Natural Lime, you are definitely someone who eats a plant-based diet because you don’t trust the “chemicals” in processed foods… but then gets bi-monthly lip injections.
Ruby Grapefruit
Grapefruit drinkers are not to be trusted. The thing with Grapefruit White Claw is it sounds good, and it is for the few sips, until you realize this sh*t is extremely f*cking abrasive. Even the name is abrasive—we all know what a grapefruit is, you don’t need to specify that it’s a ruby grapefruit.
The person who enjoys this sh*t seems great at first. She always seems to have fun plans going on and invites you out to brunch reservations at the most lit spots where the mimosas flow freely without a time limit. And even better, she sometimes pays! It’s everything you could ever want, until you realize that nothing in life is truly free. If you don’t respond to her texts immediately, she starts subtweeting you. If you can’t make one of her club reservations, you better not geotag yourself anywhere other than your bed, because you’ll get an eyeful in the DMs the second you hit post. And god forbid you post a photo she took without giving her photo credit—she may send a hit squad after you.
Raspberry
Raspberry wishes it could be black cherry, but frankly, it’s just a little too fake. Raspberry is the type of person who posts #nofilter, when you can tell they played with the brightness, contrast, and highlights, and also applied a full face contour. Raspberry would never get plastic surgery, but regularly gets facials, highlights, and lash extensions. If Raspberry were a castmember on Vanderpump Rules, it would be Scheana, and that should tell you everything you need to know.
Lemon
Okay, so you want a vodka soda but you promised yourself to stop blacking out on weeknights? We understand and we empathize. Will a Lemon White Claw transport you to the beaches of Ibiza? No, absolutely not, but it will give you the delicious citrusy alcohol taste of cheap vodka that’s reminiscent of all the bars we wish we could visit right now. Anyone chugging this flavor just really misses sweaty dance floors where finance guys try to hit on you when their girlfriends are in the bathroom. Tbh, same.
Watermelon
Watermelon White Claw tastes sort of like nothing, with a hint of watermelon and a hint of alcohol. Drinking this is like drinking a club soda with a splash of vodka in it while watching someone eat a watermelon on IGTV. That said, this beverage will provide you with the closest approximation to summer that we will experience this year. Watermelon White Claw is the official drink of everyone mourning their vacations. Drinking this will take you to a different place—no, not the beach you’d had planned, but more like, your Aunt’s house in New Jersey where you constantly get yelled at for forgetting the recipe to potato salad. (Hint: the secret ingredient is mayonnaise.)
Tangerine
Let’s call a spade a f*cking spade: this is orange. It’s orange who went to a fancy private school and came back to their hometown with a rebrand and a new vocab. But the thing about Tangerine is that while you want to hate it for insulting your intelligence by literally being orange and claiming otherwise, you can’t because just like Black Cherry, it tastes pretty damn close to the real thing. Sure, Tangerine is a little extra, but she still gets the job done, and let’s be real! Who among us is not a little extra sometimes? Tangerine is the one who peer pressures everyone into going all-out in theme for a Zoom video chat, but it ends up being really fun. She plans a minute-by-minute itinerary on your group trip, which leaves you all exhausted, but you know if you’d left it up to anyone else you would have all been hungover to even visit one site. She does dance challenges on TikTok, but she’s actually like, really coordinated. You want to hate, but you just can’t.
Images: rblfmr / Shutterstock.com; White Claw
When it comes to made up, unnecessary holidays, I will always be the first to say how stupid they are. Case in point: wtf is National Fruitcake Toss Day and why do we set January 3rd aside for it? As far as I’m concerned, January 3rd is a day of post-NYE rest. Mother’s Day, though, is not one of those holidays, and it is as legit as it is necessary. I applaud all mothers for all of the incredibly hard work that they do. I, for one, was a supreme brat from ages 12-23, so I am definitely going to spend May 10th bestowing upon my mother a thoughtful gift that says, “thank you for putting up with my bullsh*t for so long.”
Here’s the thing, though: my mom deserves like 25 Hermès scarves, the Tiffany diamond (you know, the one Lady Gaga wore to the Oscars) and a few other luxuries, but I just got laid off and can barely afford organic strawberries these days. Luckily, there are a few great Mother’s Day gift options for under $100 that say “You are a queen and you deserve the best, but, as you can see, I am poor rn.” Good enough, I guess.
Casetify Monogram Studio Case, $50
I’m sure some of you may think that no respectable woman would carry around anything that says “mom” on it, but this phone is not for regular moms; it’s for cool moms. Seriously, my mom is a classy broad with amazing style and I know for certain she’d f*cking love this leather case. It’s totally customizable, so if you’re not into pastels with navy accents, you can pick whatever color combo your mother would love most. Have fun spending the next four hours designing this bad boy!
Earl Grey Tea Tin, $8.95
Most mothers I know subsist on tea, and these super cute vintage-looking tins from Society Social make for a great gift. Each tea flavor comes in a different colored tin and contains 20 tea bags, so she’ll be set with her tea habit for a good while. Also, if you ask me, this is a literal steal.
Slip Pillowcase, $71
This silk pillowcase is a perfect example of something I’ve always wanted, but could never bring myself to actually buy. Luckily, I dropped enough super subtle hints to my roommate and she bought it for my birthday. Let me just say, it totally lived up to the hype. Here’s why your mom will also love it: it’s anti-aging. For starters, she won’t wake up with creases all over her face, but more importantly, the silk won’t absorb her serums, moisturizers and eye creams. It also protects her hair. Win-win!
Levain Bakery Cookie Assortment, from $27
If you’ve ever been to New York, you’ve been to Levain. They make the densest, richest cookies I’ve ever had, and I mean that in the best way. The sweet relief that comes with taking a bite of the classic chocolate chip walnut is what I imagine doing opioids must feel like. Seriously, they’re so f*cking good and can last for months in the freezer. I don’t know your mom, but I promise she will love them.
Local Eclectic Dainty Princess Birthstone Ring, $74
Local Eclectic is a female-founded and female-run online marketplace for emerging and independent jewelers to sell their gorgeous designs. I have gotten so much jewelry from this place that I’m embarrassed to admit how much of the money I don’t have has supported my jewelry addiction. Anyway, these birthstone rings are super delicate and can be layered, so getting a few for your mom based on the months you and your siblings were born is so cute. Or just get her one to remind her who her favorite is.
Serena & Lily Spa Robe, $79
This robe is currently on sale, so don’t wait to get it if you want to save serious $$. It’s made of Turkish cotton, which means it’s soft af. The inside is a super plush terry cloth and the exterior is a very on-trend waffle pattern. I am really tempted to get this for myself because I’m pretty sure that my current dark gray floor-length robe was inspired by the Grim Reaper’s from the Sims. Serena & Lily is a home brand beloved by many moms, so I’m sure any of them would appreciate this.
Jo Malone London Candle, $67
Let me just start by saying if you have principals and refuse to spend $67 on a candle, check out Voluspa for gorgeous candles at a less offensive price. Anyway, Jo Malone is known for her perfume and, as of late, her candles. I actually have this one on my nightstand and I get whiffs of it even when it’s not burning. The glass container has a really nice minimalist look and the candles all smell amazing, so you really can’t go wrong. The Wood Sage & Sea Salt scent is the most popular, and I love that not-so-subtle “bougie parfumée” flex on the bottom of the label.
Barr Hill Gin, $44
Guys, listen: for my first Mother’s Day, I would really appreciate a bottle of 90-proof liquor. In all seriousness, this is a great gift! Everyone loves a good cocktail—especially now that we will most likely still be staying at home on May 10th—and gin is a crowd-of-less-than-10-pleaser. Also, this bottle looks like something Julia Engel would have displayed on her bar cart because it’s so charming and whimsical-looking.
Moon & Jai Love Ritual Kit, $49
In the Pursuit is kind of like Local Eclectic, but for literally everything, not just jewelry. If your mom is into crystals, burning sage, and palo santo, she will lose her mind at this kit. It contains a rose quartz crystal, clear quartz point, sage wand, beautiful matches and a bunch of other sh*t that will definitely clear the bad energy from her house.
Escape By Gray Malin, $28.95
Gray Malin is a photographer whose pictures are reminiscent of Slim Aarons, but way more affordable. I got this book for myself at a book-signing and, after flipping through it, bought myself one of his photos. His work, mostly aerial photos of beautiful beaches around the world, is really beautiful and the book is a great way to see it all without having to drop thousands on a big-ass picture your mom has no wall space for.
UGG Fuzzette Slide Sandals, $90
Everyone loves slippers, and if anyone tells you otherwise, they’re a liar. UGG may not be as cool as it was in 2006, but their slippers are still unparalleled. If your mom is aching for a canary yellow slide that she can wear around the house, she’ll love these. They also come in black, though.
Kin Sora Multipurpose Towel, $68
If your mom loves yoga as much as she loves the environment, this towel is the perfect gift for her. I know what you’re thinking, “a towel?” but this is no ordinary towel. In fact, it’s made from recycled fabric and is non-skid, so your mom can use it as a yoga mat. I mean, who doesn’t love a good multi-purpose product, right?
PlantShed Adore You, $34
If your mom lives in the tri-state area, don’t even think about getting her flowers unless they’re from PlantShed. If Rufus Humphrey was a botanist instead of an art-junkie, he’d have opened PlantShed (it’s half charming flower shop and half coffee shop). They teach you how to care for your new plant so that your mom couldn’t kill it if she tried.
Images: Brigitte Tohm / Unsplash; Bloomingdale’s; Gray Malin; In The Pursuit Studio; Caskers; Jo Malone; Serena & Lily; gopjn.com; Levain; Slip; Society Social; Casetify; Kin; PlantShed
Betches may receive a portion of revenue if you click a link and purchase a product or service. The links are independently placed and do not influence editorial content.
Right now there’s nothing I’m looking forward to more than Netflix dropping its new trashy reality dating show, Too Hot To Handle. Well, I’m also looking forward to the day I can leave my house and enjoy the company of another human person, but I don’t dare to dream that impossible dream. So reality TV it is! Earlier this week I watched the trailer and determined that Too Hot To Handle is going to be the successor to Love is Blind, only with more alcohol, a cash prize, and a robot named Lana who will shame the contestants when they try to get away with playing “just the tip”. She’s not mad, she’s just disappointed. So, who are these lucky contestants that get to keep it in their pants for cash? Let’s break them down!
Chloe Veitch, Essex, United Kingdom
Chloe is a model who is only 19. Wow, Netflix. Was this filmed on Jeffrey Epstein’s island? I’m calling the police. Anyway, since Chloe is so young, look for her to not be able to hold her liquor and slur profess her undying love for the first boy that carries around a skateboard and tells her he doesn’t subscribe to relationship labels. In fact, her bio says, “She once fell head over heels for someone and after only two weeks she got a tattoo on her collarbone of the date they met”. Let’s hope there are no tattoo artists on this island!
David Birtwistle, London, United Kingdom
David is, obviously, a personal trainer with a health and nutrition guide titled “Fat Loss Plan.” Well, I guess It’s always good to know they’re not creative right out of the gate, right? David also has the longest Instagram captions that I have ever seen, so I’m sure he will be mansplaining all the rules to the women like, “Now see that robot over there? A robot is a machine that can talk, by the way. The robot said that on this island we will not be able to do any sexual activity if we want to win money. Now, sexual activity includes kissing and sex, but she never specifically said that you couldn’t suck my dick so best to get on with it, then.”
Francesca Farago, British Columbia, Canada
Francesca eats plant-based so she is probably f*cking miserable to be around, but she definitely looks great in a bikini! And in lingerie. And topless. All of which are looks that Francesca models on her Instagram. According to her Netflix bio, Francesca is a “free spirit and a thrill-seeker” who is “not afraid to break the rules.” Uh-oh. So basically, Francesca ends up disobeying Lana on night one, and though she goes home early, she goes home satisfied.
Haley Cureton, Florida, United States
It looks like Netflix was smart enough to forage for contestants in a dumpster at the Jacksonville Hooters! Never say these casting directors don’t know what they’re doing. Haley is a business student and volunteers at an animal shelter in her free time. How sweet! Also, according to her bio, she “once got a tattoo done in an ‘unknown language’—to this day she still doesn’t know what it says.” I can’t make this up! Florida, you never fail to deliver. Haley is also open to exploring relationships with both men and women, which is going to make this game an awful lot harder for her. Best of luck to you Haley, you never even had a chance!
Harry Jowsey, Queensland, Australia
Damn, Harry already has almost 150k followers, and I can’t seem to figure out why. Maybe it’s because he’s 6’5”? He calls himself a “giraffe on ice” in his bio, so obviously he knows comedy. Netflix warns that he turns heads as soon as he walks onto the island, so look for Harry to lose the group a ton of money, but make a joke about it, and have everyone still patting him on the back as he turns their bank account red.
Kelechi Dyke, London, United Kingdom
Kelechi is 6’6”. What is with this height listing? We get it! You all have big d*cks! I’m so happy for you! Now, if only you didn’t wear that Gucci crossbody bag everywhere, Kelechi, maybe I would care more. I swear if he brings that to the island, he’s the winner. That thing is a modern-day chastity belt.
Matthew Smith, Colorado, United States
Matthew has a man bun, competed for America’s Next Top Model, CARRIES A SKATEBOARD, and has many mottos, one of which is, “I skinny dip in every sea anywhere I go.” Oh, poor Chloe. He is going to neg you all season, sweetheart. Matty is 1,000% in this for the fame, so I’m sure we’ll see him displaying his range of emotions in the hopes of getting cast as Jesus in a Mel Gibson epic when this is over, but instead only landing bit parts like “dead carpenter #3” on Law & Order: SVU. Hey, he could do worse!
Nicole O’Brien, County Cork, Ireland
Too Hot To Handle has not even dropped yet, and Nicole has already set up a Cameo where you can book her for $35. A little rich for someone with less than 10k Instagram followers, no? She must be very confident in her edit. Which probably means she’s the villain who goes after everyone else’s man. She did, apparently, work on yachts “in Chicago for two years hosting Kanye West, Justin Bieber, and Jay-Z,” so if that doesn’t make you an expert in attention whore behavior, I don’t know what does. Oh, and she definitely speaks with a breathless sexy baby voice. Just a hunch, but man, she looks the type.
Rhonda Paul, Georgia, United States
In the trailer, Rhonda says she would rate herself a 10 out of 10, and it’s hard to disagree. Normally I hate people who are so arrogant, but they’re way more fun on a reality show than watching someone mumble into the mirror “you repulse me.” I already get enough of that at home! Rhonda claims she is “bored” with the dating scene in Atlanta. A girl that is bored with the dating scene is either me a girl who spends her Friday nights re-watching old Degrassi episodes on YouTube while wearing a shirt with three-day-old pizza sauce stains on it, or a girl who has banged her way through an entire city’s worth of men. I’ll let you guess which one Rhonda probably is.
Sharron Townsend, New Jersey, USA
And, because no trashy reality show is complete without a contestant from my very beautiful home state of New Jersey, we have Sharron. Sharron is a personal trainer and professional kids wrestling coach who likes hitting on the moms and is apparently incredibly comfortable with nudity. Expect him to be the exhibitionist who somehow never has a towel nearby when he gets out of the shower! Where could it have gone?? But in his defense, Sharron says he was born naked, and he’ll die naked. And you can’t die naked if you’re not ALWAYS naked. He won’t be taking the risk of wearing clothes, no thank you.
Bryce Hirschberg, California, USA
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Will I ever move off the boat? Not unless I can match this morning view 😍
Bryce lives in Marina del Rey. He looks like a male model and mediocre actor. And he could definitely hang a TV in seven minutes. I think we all know what that means. I predict that while Bryce is a loser on Too Hot To Handle, when he comes home, Scheana Shay slides into his DM’s and they become BEST FRIENDS. He has sex with her once. And then he spends the rest of his life unsuccessfully trying to extract himself from her death grip. The end!
Kori Sampson, Hertfordshire, United Kingdom
Kori is also a male model and personal trainer! Shocking! His guide is called “Lean Lifestyle”, for which I will award higher creativity points solely for the use of alliteration. I do wish all these contestants would stop shoving their healthy plans down my throat, though, because I will be binge-eating chocolate covered Oreos while binge-watching this show, and you can’t stop me!
Lydia Clyma, London, United Kingdom
Lydia seems to be some kind of ring girl for boxing? Is that what it’s called? I’m more of a baseball fan and I don’t watch Total Bellas, so the breadth of my knowledge on this topic is v limited. But I think it means she likes watching grown men beat the sh*t out of each other, right? I assume this will help Lydia on the island very much, she’ll stir the pot just so the men fight over her and she can feel like she’s home again for a few beautiful seconds. Evil strategy, but I like it.
Madison Wyborny, California, USA
Madison is a model who is quarantining in Bali. So, and I mean this with all my heart, f*ck you Madison, I hope you lose.
And those are our Too Hot To Handle contestants so far! May the odds be ever in their favor, and may they all make fools of themselves on tv for my entertainment.
Images: Netflix; chloeveitchofficial, david.birtwistle, francescafarago, haley.cure, harryjowsey, kelechidyke, matthewstephensmith, nicole.ob, imrhondapaul, sharrontownsendofficial/ Instagram
As we enter into yet another week of our never-ending stay-at-home order, we rely on a few comforts to help get us through the uncertainty and terror of this time. Napping at all hours of the day? Definitely. Eating every single snack we just bought at the grocery store that was supposed to last us two weeks? Of course! Dressing our dog up like the Queen of England and pretending we’re at high tea? Who among us hasn’t?! But, most importantly, we rely on Netflix to continuously drop the most absurd shows (Hi, Tiger King! Hi, Love is Blind!) that allow us to forget for just a little while that we are actually living in a game of Jumanji. And Netflix is coming through for us yet again on Friday, April 17th, when they drop their next reality dating show, Too Hot to Handle. They just released the trailer, and it looks like exactly the amount of trash we all need in our lives right now (which is Britney-in-a-gas-station-bathroom-without-her-shoes level of trash). So, let’s take a look at the trailer, break it down, and talk about why Too Hot To Handle is most definitely going to be a worthy successor to our last reality obsession, Love is Blind.
I’m going to leave the trailer for you right here, please watch it, take copious notes, and then come back to me to discuss.
There sure is a lot to unpack, so let’s go over the basics. Too Hot to Handle features 10 hot singles on an island in bikinis, drinking excessive amounts of alcohol out of Solo cups, and in a competition for $100,000. Seems pretty easy, right? But of course, there is a twist, because Netflix is nothing if not a sick bastard. A cone shaped robot named Lana tells the contestants that in order to win the money, they have to abstain from sexual activity. I shrieked. These people literally arrived on the island slathered in their favorite lube, and they aren’t allowed to have sex?! Have you seen anything sadder in your whole life?
What the contestants thought the island was going to be like:
What it’s actually like:
After the robot drops its bombshell, the contestants slowly remove their penises from whatever hole they had immediately stuck them in, and proceed to lose their minds. This seems like it’s going to be fun! Well for me, at least—the raging hormones disguised as people stuck on this sexless island seem a little less enthused.
So what else is notable about the trailer, I mean, other than the fact that one dude is obviously going to f*ck a fish? Well, a lot of these people appear to be British, which makes me wonder if they think Americans are not garbage enough for this show? If so, I’d like to point them in the direction of a brilliant piece of art known as Are You The One? for proof that you can most certainly peel some of us off a sticky linoleum floor in Jacksonville and convince us to humiliate ourselves on TV for a small amount of money and a can of Axe Body Spray. Something to consider for next season! It’s also cute that one of the women thinks that because of the format, “maybe more can come from this.” Adorable. I think it means he’s just going to bang you when you get home and then ghost you, but it’s nice to have dreams!
We also see someone saying “I don’t want to break the rules,” and then a montage of a LOT of rule breaking. So I think it is safe to say that even though hooking up isn’t allowed, there will be a bunch of people claiming that they didn’t mean to, they just fell and somehow it slipped in! That can’t count, right? Lana would never take away money for such an innocent accident, would she?
If anything is clear from watching this trailer, though, it’s that Too Hot To Handle is the OBVIOUS successor to Love is Blind, and might even improve upon its predecessor. First of all, they’ve replaced Nick and Vanessa Lachey with a talking triangle with some pretty blue lights, and it delivers lines better than they ever did. Sorry Lacheys, no more free vacations for you. You’ll have to do sponsored Instagram ads pimping out your children like the rest of the C-listers if you want a summer vacay!
There also appears to be way more partying on Too Hot To Handle, which I’m thankful for. I was a little tired of watching only Jessica get sloshed in every episode of Love is Blind.
Okay fine, I wasn’t, that was pure gold, but I want to see ALL the contestants bring shame on their families by drinking too much pinot grigio and hitting on someone else’s man. And finally, Too Hot To Handle has a similar premise to Love is Blind. Robot Lana explains to the contestants, much more eloquently than Nick ever did, that the reason they can’t have sex is so they gain deeper connections with one another. I’m not sure why this “deep connection” thing is the hill Netflix is willing to die on in 2020, but most likely because it’s making them a sh*t ton of cash and not because they care about people forming successful relationships built on love and respect, right?
I have to admit, I’m excited for this one. And not just because I think it’s going to end with the robot slaughtering all the contestants and taking over the island to breed little Lanas that will eventually conquer the world. But because we all watched Love is Blind, and now in real life we’re stuck dating in isolation pods, so if we all watch Too Hot To Handle, at least we’ll be stuck on an island after this, even if we must be abstinent. CAN’T WAIT!
Images: giphy (3); loveisblindtv/Instagram; Netflix
When most people say they’re outdoorsy, they mean that they enjoy going on hikes. When I say I’m outdoorsy, I mean that I like drinking on rooftops. Maybe that’s why I don’t get many Hinge messages? Oops. Participating in my favorite pastime is obviously easiest in the summer where I can knock back rosé outside and tan, but doing it in the winter is obviously more difficult. Thank god for indoor rooftop bars, where you can get all the same NYC views without freezing to death. Here are some of our favorite indoor rooftop bars to hit when it’s f*cking cold outside.
The Crown
Gerber Group’s The Crown is located on the roof of one of the few gems Chinatown has to offer, Hotel 50 Bowery, and it’s one of the only places in the city where you can get unobstructed views of both the Manhattan and Brooklyn skylines. That means double the Instagrams that you can queue up to post later on—what more could you ask for? Inside, there are plush couches (and a neon sign, because who doesn’t love a good neon sign?) and floor-to-ceiling windows so you can still capture your candids. The menu changes seasonally, but when I went over the summer, their fruity drinks and lobster roll were really f*cking good.
Hotel Chantelle
Fun fact: Hotel Chantelle, the Lower East Side classic, is not, in fact, a hotel! Makes sense. Like my Bat Mitzvah, the rooftop is Paris-themed, but unlike the social event of 2007, Hotel Chantelle doesn’t look like a 13-year-old-girl’s wet dream. But unless you’re going there specifically for French feels, the decor doesn’t really matter. It just looks like a cute, small rooftop bar, which is more than fine by me.
If you and your work “friends” are into happy hour, Hotel Chantelle is definitely the move because there’s rarely a line before 1am and the deals are legit. For instance, $8 for a cocktail and $42 for a pitcher. There are also $8 food specials like chicken meatballs and white truffle flatbread. (Also, fun fact, they also have a good brunch with even better drink deals.)
Broken Shaker
Broken Shaker is my favorite bar in New York. I know no one goes to a bar for the interior design, but this place has noticeably cool interior design. It was giving me Tahiti vibes in the best way possible, and the drinks were amazing. I actually went here on my birthday, and because I wouldn’t shut the f*ck about it being my birthday we were so sweet to the other bar-goers, we managed to snag a cocktail table with two wicker peacock chairs and drink all damn night. The views were sick, the drinks were delicious, and the bartenders were really hot. What else could you want in a bar?
The Water Tower
Williamsburg is usually not on my list of places I want to go, because hipsters with micro-tattoos and ironic top hats aren’t really my cup of tea, but The Williamsburg Hotel is my exception. It’s hands down the coolest hotel I’ve ever been to, and I will gladly stay here when I make more money and can afford it. The Water Tower is, you guessed it, on the roof and it definitely fits with the funky aesthetic of the hotel. Even though most rooftops have pretty decent views, The Water Tower’s view is truly unreal because you’re looking across the East River at all of the Manhattan apartments you can’t afford. I’ll drink to that.
Also, unlike other misleading names, The Water Tower is kind of a water tower. No, it never held water, but it’s a giant glass structure shaped like one. So the views are too legit to quit because they’re panoramic. It’s kind of mesmerizing being in there because it feels like you’re in a bubble floating above the street.
JIMMY at The James
Unlike a lot of rooftop bars, this place looks like it was designed for the winter. By that, I mean it’s really cozy and decorated kind of like a super chic ski chalet. I’m definitely into that and will probably be holed up there all weekend. No, you can’t go in the pool this time of year, but that’s why they designed the inside to make it so appealing. And the drinks all have cute/weird names like Grapes of Wrath, Catch Your Pikachu, and Legal in Vermont. I don’t know what those last two drink names mean, but whatever. The drinks are tasty and the atmosphere is really cozy, so if you don’t feel like drinking a cocktail with a lame name at your apartment, go here.
Images: The Crown at 50 Bowery; jimmyatthejames, thewatertowerbar, brokenshaker, hotelchantelle, thecrownnyc / Instagram
Presented by Moxy Hotels
Planning sucks, and bachelorette parties are a ton of work. So we’re taking all the guesswork out of planning a bachelorette party by breaking down top bachelorette destinations. Our guides will tell you where to stay, eat, party, how to get around, and give you a sample itinerary that you can follow. You’re welcome.
Bahstan really comes alive in the fall, and so will you, on an all-out bachelorette trip to B-Town. If you reside in Mass, are from the East Coast, or just looking to party it up on the cheap(er) side and not travel far, Beantown is a solid destination. It’s an easy year-round quick getaway. It’s a walkable metropolis packed with quality hotels, restaurants, bars, and adorable cobblestone streets made for impromptu photoshoots. Believe it or not, you can actually have a pretty epic girls trip in the “City of Champions”.
Boston’s really been stepping up their hospitality, culinary, and nightlife game, and they even have a Vegas-style club where you can order bottle service, dance on tables, and act like girls gone wild until you’re kicked out it’s time to go home. If you can avoid behaving like a total Masshole, or getting into any fights with the ones who live there, kudos to you. You’re not trying to get arrested on your last fling before the ring and have to dip into the wedding fund for bail money. With that being said, here’s our ultimate bachelorette guide to Boston.
How To Get There
Good news: Boston is a major city, so it’s not terribly hard to get to. The main airport is Logan if you happen to be flying from the South or the West Coast, but if you’re on the East Coast, you can also drive, train, or a take a boozy limo because it’s your bach and you do what you want! From NYC you’re looking at a 4+ hour drive and honestly around the same number of hours if you take Amtrak, but then you can pregame, so there’s that. Flying will get you to Beantown in closer to 2 hours from NYC, or approximately 5.5 hours from LA. Boston is wicked cheap to get to, though. Flights from the East Coast can be found for as low as $180 (or $130 from NYC), but pro tip—book on a Sunday. It’s the new Tuesday for bookings.
How To Get Around
Boston is a walking city, but obviously Uber, Lyft, and cabs work when your heels don’t. Another way to get around is the good ol’ T. The T isn’t as gross as the subway in NYC and for some places you go to, can take shorter than driving. Another option we love? Safr, which is ridesharing for women, by women. So if you don’t feel like dealing with some aggro Uber driver canceling on you when you’re just trying to find him when you’re blackout drunk, go with a local Boston lady who will probably compliment you on your outfit and give your squad tips on where to party all weekend. They’re friendly like that.
Where To Stay
The Moxy: The Moxy Boston Downtown just opened recently, and it’s already the place to stay if you want to take advantage of everything Boston has to offer. The location could not be more central, but tbh, you might not even want to leave the hotel. Between the industrial chic design and theatrical decor, the space is a perfect backdrop for your insta. There’s even a food-truck themed photo booth (because, why not?) if your phone is a dinosaur like mine. This is obviously ideal, because you know you’ll hate the pics you drunkenly decided would be so cute at the club after a few too many. Like all Moxy Hotels, the party starts as soon as you step into the lobby, with a video wall, games, and a free cocktail when you check-in.
The Moxy’s bar, appropriately named Bar Moxy, is the perfect spot to kick off your night with their signature “Got Moxy” cocktail. By the time you’re ready to hit the town, the hotel’s location is walking distance from all of the best food and drink in Downtown Boston. And the Moxy also has you covered when you come back at the end of the night, with 24-hour grab and go food inside the hotel. They even have a special “Curtain Call” menu, filled with dunchie delights, because the Moxy gets it. God bless. Combined with brand-new rooms with amazing floor-to-ceiling views, your bach group is going to be very happy with this hotel choice.
Hotel Commonwealth: This popular hotel is basically on top of Fenway Stadium, so it’s prime turf for taking in games and being in close proximity to all the Kenmore Square bars. It has a craft cocktail bar onsite, The Hawthorne, where you’ll start and end your nights. Two in-house restaurants (Eastern Standard and Island Creek Oyster Bar) also round out the list of perks, because when you’re hungover you need to be as close as humanly possible to mimosas and eggs Benedict. As for the digs, their posh 245 guest rooms, suites, and signature suites are spacious AF.
XV Beacon: The tone at XV Beacon Hotel is swankkky, so if you and your crew are some fancy betches, this is where you wanna check in. Important info to note: they allow pets for any four-legged friends looking to jump on the party bandwagon; they have a chic little roof where popping bottles of bubbly is a must; and in-house restaurant, Mooo, is next-level for group dinners.
The Godfrey Hotel Boston: The Godfrey is super cute and all, but let’s be serious—we check in here for the Bloody Mary bar cart that comes to your room at the press of a button. You can even request meeting rooms like the Blake and Amory as “get-ready” rooms, to blast single lady anthems and discuss life important outfit decisions before you hit the town. For dinner, there’s RUKA Restobar downstairs, which is a Peruvian-Japanese option that brings Nikkei cuisine to the forefront in Boston.
Where To Eat
Real talk: Bach’ing in Boston isn’t like bach’ing in the Hamptons, Miami, or on some tropical island where you have to be in a swimsuit 24/7, so get ready to eat. A lot.
Fox & The Knife: James Beard award-winning chef Karen Akunowicz of Myers+Chang fame just opened her first solo venture, and it’s pretty badass. It’s been named one of 2019’s Best New Restaurants by Food & Wine and Eater, so reserve in advance, if you want any shot in hell of getting in. As for the eats, there’s this cheese-stuffed focaccia situation on the menu that will make your life complete and pastas so good, you run the risk of getting into a fight with the bride over the last bite.
Uni: If you’ve ever wanted to nom on crazy good sushi while listening to old-school rap, go here. It doesn’t get any better than Uni in Boston, and they offer a private dining room so you can be as debaucherous as you want. JK, keep it together—you want to be semi-sober to enjoy this. P.S. There’s late-night ramen on the menu, so keep that knowledge in your back pocket when the munchies strike.
Peregrine: Peregrine is the new kid on the block—the Beacon Hill block, to be exact—in The Whitney Hotel. It’s basically a love letter to the Italian islands of Sardinia and Sicily and their ever-changing seasonal menu highlights include: pappardelle with braised chicken, steak with addictive rosemary garlic potatoes, and Catalonian tomato bread—just like nonna used to make. Oh, and you’ll want to get dressed up.
Myers+Chang: This upscale Chinese, Taiwanese, Korean, Asian-ish restaurant is uberrrrr famous and has a million dim sum-y things on the menu that you’ll dream about long after you crawl back home in a post-bender state. Word to the wise, though: maybe save this one for last and wear stretchy pants unless you want to be in a food coma after.
Bistro du Midi: The posh 10-year-old French bistro overlooks the Boston Public Gardens and has Le Bernardin alum chef Robert Sisca manning the kitchen, so you know it’s legit. Go for a ladies who boozy brunch moment when you want to #roséallday and devour platters of charcuterie, flatbread, and pommes frites. I mean, a bachelorette party is technically a food tour, right?
Committee Ouzeri + Bar: Nestled in the middle of the Seaport district is Committee, a modern Greek ouzeria GEM that’s become a go-to hang in the past few years. It’s spacious (aka good for groups), has delish mezze, and some of the most insane craft cocktails in the city. Evidence below.
Toro Boston: This big deal Boston tapas restaurant brings the Barcelona vibes HARD, thanks to celeb chefs Ken Oringer and Jamie Biss. And seriously, what’s better than bonding over a massive pan of paella? Not a whole lot TBH.
SRV: Come for the cicchetti (Venetian-style) bar snacks; stay for the $45 tasting menu that’s one of the best in the city. You’ll feel like you’re in Italy, only you’re in Boston, most likely on your 4th glass of vino, licking your plate clean.
Barking Crab: This place is an institution in Boston, parked below The Envoy Hotel, smack dab on the waterfront. An “urban seafood shack”, if you will. Slam a few oyster shooters, then order the New England-style clambake, plus all the lobster rolls, chowdah, and fried fish sandwiches that will fit on the table.
Where To Party
Boston loves themselves some moody, brooding, speakeasy lairs. Among the winners are Wink & Nod, Yvonne’s, and Lion’s Tail, so be sure to allow yourself plenty of time to hit them all before passing out. Then there are the other tried-and-true fan favorites and one very Vegas-y club.
Alibi at The Liberty Hotel: Any bar that looks like a jail cell, is housed in a former prison, and has mug shots of Lindsay Lohan and Frank Sinatra hanging on the walls is our kind of place.
The Pour House: The Pour House is literally the greatest place on earth—when you’re in Boston. In fact, Rihanna visited THREE f-ing times on her last trip to Boston! The Po Ho is as neighborhood watering hole as it gets, but in that special “I can’t wait to go back” kind of way.
Lookout Rooftop and Bar: Their catch phrase says it all: Today’s forecast: 100% chance of cocktails. The best rooftop views in Boston, a cool kids kinda crowd, and heated igloos (in the winter) made for imbibing, while getting that high-performing content for the ‘gram. Need we say more?
Yvonne’s: You can’t go to Boston and not go to Yvonne’s. It’s a rite of passage. Located in the former Locke-Ober space, this sexy supper club flows from dinner, to drinks, to lounging and their menu is all about the sharable plates. Prepare to spend all night here and LOVE IT.
The Hawthorne: The Hawthorne’s curated cocktail menu is filled with wild concoctions, thanks to mixologist wizard Jackson Cannon. So getting the bride toasted from off-the-cuff libations and rare cognacs, mezcals, and well-aged rums is par for the course. Be sure to hit up Swizzle Sundays or Sunday Sips, depending on the season. It gets lit.
The Grand: The Grand is Boston’s version of a Vegas nightclub. Drawing international DJ talent and names like Tiësto, Aoki, Hardwell, R3HAB, Marshmello, etc., it’s worth a stop on your bach weekend. Grab your girls and get yourself a table because once the bottle service starts following, you’re going to want to keep partying all night. Or at least until 2am. when the bars shut down. COME ON, BOSTON.
Friday, Day 1
Pro Tip: Make Friday your city day for shopping, doing touristy stuff, etc. You ain’t got time for that on Sat.
- Swing by the hotel, drop your stuff off, and hit the bar at the Moxy for the first of many rounds of the weekend. Pro tip: Bar Moxy’s “French Spritz” is super tasty and light enough to fend off any mini-hangovers in the afternoon.
- Make your way over to the Newbs (Newbury Street)/Boylston St. for shopping with a side of lunch. Top spots include: Parish Cafe, Stephanie’s On Newbury, Pour House DUH (Rih loves the wings), and Lolita Back Bay.
- Get the bride toasted at lunch, then go drive an amphibious vehicle through the water. No really, this is a thing here. Boston Duck Tours are land-meets-water historical tours of Boston in replica World War II vehicles that look (sorta) like ducks. And they’re basically asking for wasted bachelorette groups to be on board, since all you do is scream QUACK QUACK at innocent people the whole time.
- Chill at the hotel, try to nap, then pop bottles and let the glam begin.
- Work the Seaport circuit via dinner/drinks at Committee and Lookout Rooftop.
- Party at Grand like it’s your job, then collapse in your bed.
Saturday, Day 2
Pro Tip: Grab coffee to go from your hotel (and maybe chug a mimosa or three), then head over to Charles St., the cutest street in all of Boston, for group pics on The Hill before you spend the rest of the day getting schwasty-faced.
- Brunch on Charles at The Paramount (if your crew is small) or at Scampo at The Liberty Hotel, or back over by the park at Bistro du Midi.
- Proceed to eat and drink all the things.
- If your squad is the spa type, book afternoon treatments at Exhale Boston in Back Bay or Battery Wharf.
- Or book the Bridal Dash Boston scavenger hunt where you’ll
try not to go madhave a good time because you’re a good friend, damnit. - Another option for later: Keep drinking on a booze cruise around the harbor. The Boatonian has DJs, dancing, and all the cape codders you can handle (without vom’ing) for $30 per person (NOT including the cost of drinks, ugh). Country Saturdays features the best live country bands in New England—if you’re into that sort of thing—and they start boarding at 8:30pm and shove off at 9pm sharp. Contact Matt at (617) 306-3347 for the group discount hookup.
- Do a late dinner (Fox & The Knife, Toro Boston, Uni, Yvonne’s), then hit the speakeasies for a few, before ending at the Boylston bars for last call.
Sunday, Day 3
Pro Tip: Ask for a late check-out in advance (some hotels let you pay more) so you can capitalize on Sunday Funday.
- Wake up, raid the mini bar for all the water in the room (and maybe more champagne), pop some Tylenol and get ready for brunch! It’s a marathon, not a sprint!
- Go out with a bang at Dim Sum Brunch at Meyers+Chang.
- Pass out on your flight, bus, train, car ride home—unless you’re the driver. Don’t do that.
Until next time, Boston!
Images: todd kent / Unsplash; hotelcommonwealth (2), xvbeaconhotel, godfreyboston, foxandknife, uni_boston, whitneyhotelboston, myersandchang, bistrodumidi, committeeboston, toroboston, srvboston, barkingcrab, alibiboston, thepourhouseboston, lookoutrooftop, yvonnesboston, bar500a, thegrandboston / Instagram
Your first college party is an exciting and slightly terrifying experience. Your imagination has probably run wild with what to expect based on what you’ve seen in movies, TV shows, and stories from graduates from your high school who are somehow always still hanging around your basement kickbacks (can you say peaked?). You may be expecting to be in a mansion of a frat house that’s decked out with Euphoria style lighting and decor, but allow me to set the record straight. This will tell you what’s true, what’s overhyped, and what’s just flat-out not gonna happen so you don’t get your precious party dreams crushed.
The Pregame
Expectation: The pregame will be a fun and exciting way to meet new people. You’ll play drinking games, listen to some good music, and take a few too many shots with the girl you just met who is now your new bestie. You’ll have incredible conversations about what you’re excited about in college and exchange numbers with all the new people you just like, click with.
Reality: It’s a complete and total f*cking nightmare unless you’re appropriately buzzed. “Old Town Road” has been played 10 times just in the one hour you’ve been there, someone’s standing on the coffee table trying to teach everyone their favorite TikTok dances, and the punch you paid $10 for tastes like it has maybe one shot in the entire bowl. Your night will go one of two ways: you’ll black out and never make it to the party or you’ll roll up completely sober. Choose wisely.
Your Outfit
Expectation: You look perfect the whole night. The time you spent tearing apart your closet to decide which black top among a sea of black tops you were going to wear, redoing your eyeliner a hundred times, and starting to get ready two hours early to give your hair the perfect beach waves has all paid off. No amount of humidity or dancing could possibly destroy your Insta-worthy look.
Reality: Five minutes after you get to the party, you catch your reflection and your look’s already gone to sh*t. Your makeup has melted and your hair, which was once as sleek and smooth as an influencer’s Facetuned skin, is now a mile high with frizz and chucked up into a messy bun. Oh, and someone spilled their drink on you the moment you stepped in the door. Thankfully you were too drunk to notice. To top it all off, by the end of the night your shoes got destroyed and you lost your jacket, but hey, at least you took pics before you left!
The Actual Party
Expectation: You’ll spend the night dropping it low with your friends while scream-singing your favorite songs, impress everyone with how unexpectedly good at beer pong you are, and miraculously wake up without a hangover despite out-drinking everyone else. You’ll be the undeniable life of the party and your plan to totally kill it at this ~college thing~ will go off without a hitch.
Reality: You’re going to spend more time trying to find a bathroom that isn’t totally disgusting to pee in and looking for your friends who somehow disappear every five minutes than you will socializing and dancing. After a while you’ll settle on peeing outside and accept that you’re friends are probably dead now, but honestly, the three minutes you’ll lose your sh*t while “Stacy’s Mom” is on are totally worth it.
Your New Obsession Crush
Expectation: You’re going to meet the love of your life. You spot each other across the room the moment you walk in and he somehow only has eyes for you. The crowd parts as you move in slow motion to meet each other. The music playing in the background somehow matches the moment perfectly. Everything is so perfect, it’s almost as if it was cut together by the editors of The Bachelor.
Reality: You spend almost an hour on the porch talking to some dude wearing a half-buttoned Hawaiian shirt (disgusting, but he’s the best-looking one there). You’ll probably get his number and save it under something like “frat guy Hawaiian shirt,” make out a little, but he’ll ultimately end the conversation by being pulled away by one of his frat bros to go play Edward Fortyhands.
The End of the Night
Expectation: Your night will end with a legendary story. Maybe you’ll climb to the roof of your lecture hall, break into the basketball court at 2am, meet someone famous (you know, if you don’t go to school in a cow town), or literally do anything that will make your friends who decided to stay in jealous as f*ck.
Reality: By the time the party gets shut down, you’ll be too exhausted to even take off your makeup, much less go anywhere other than straight to bed. The only logical way to end your night is by debating whether or not a $4.99 delivery charge is truly worth getting greasy food sent to your room, to which the answer is always yes. You’ll spend about six minutes scarfing down an entire pizza and TBH, in that moment you won’t be able to think of anything more satisfying.
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and then there’s me in bed seriously contemplating if it’s worth it | @rahmesh_
Granted, there may be a few schools out there where the parties are genuinely incredible and meet your expectations, but I’ve yet to experience that. Whether you’re a freshman going strictly to frat houses, or a senior who frequents the bar and experiences the occasional frat relapse (no shade, we’ve all been there), odds are, the only stories you have from your nights out are about your friend throwing up in your Uber, how you made a total ass of yourself in front of the guy you’ve been talking to, or, my personal favorite, you won’t have any stories at all because you went too hard and can’t remember a thing. Better luck next year!
Images: Aditya Chinchure / Unsplash; dietstartstomorrow, off campus (2), betches / Instagram
