I’m at an awkward age. No, I’m not talking about when you’re twelve and unaware that it’s time to start wearing a bra– I’m talking about what, presumably, many of you reading this right now fall into: the gap between newbie partiers and legal drinkers. AKA junior year social frustration.
I’m a twenty year old college girl who wants to let off steam on the weekends, limited by her overtired options. After two and a half years of attending house parties I feel too old to saunter in and get chummy with underclassmen. Unless, of course, I’m in the mood to witness some cringe-worthy moments while carrying a conversation along the lines of oh yes, I remember loving interp.
Don’t get me wrong– I’m not saying that I don’t enjoy social gatherings at people’s houses. The distinction, I think, lies in whether you know the people at the party, or if you’re there solely because it’s your only option that night. C’est la vie of a CMU student on the cusp of the legal drinking age.
Yes, I know what you’re thinking; seemingly every twenty year old (or younger) avoids this predicament by flashing fakes at the bars. While they’re sipping on something classier than jungle juice, I’m sitting at home with my, like, one non-fake-ID-owning friend and whining about how we wish we were 21.
That being said, my 20 year old angst has forced me to find new weekend activities. Admittedly, I’ve seen more movies recently than A-list critics and I’ve started to enjoy board games (commence judgment). But you know what? It’s been kind of fun acting like a middle-aged adult. I mean, who knew people actually bake the things they pin on Pinterest? I do, now, because that’s what a lot of my Saturday nights boil down to.
The good news? I turn 21 in two weeks. I will soon be able to enjoy a glass of wine with dinner and saunter into bars with my friends after a long week (or day). I literally can’t wait. That being said, I’ve noticed that not everyone’s excitement for turning 21 mimics mine. Generally, I’ve found that there are two distinct reactions:
1. cool, now I won’t have to sneak through the side door of the bar
2. OMG A WHOLE NEW WORLD!!!
Guess which is which? (okay, so the second one is presumably me, but I promise I’m not that obnoxious.) Basically, my point is that people who’ve been using fakes for years don’t seem as thrilled by the big two-one as those of us who’ve never ordered a drink.
That’s not to say that this is the part where I tie everything up in a neat little bow and gush about how happy I am that I waited until my 21st to go to bars; after all, to say I didn’t have major FOMO every weekend would be a lie. Nonetheless, I like to tell myself that the novelty of entering the “adult” social scene will make my 21st the best night ever.
Hang in there, socially frustrated twenty year olds; waiting for the ripe old boozin’ age might just be worth it.