People who do drink at uni are the real weirdos

The best thing I’ve ever done was realise that drinking isn’t actually that great.

Yeah, I get it, alcohol lets you loosen up and turns you into that freely dancing, head spinning, sex crazed lunatic that mummy and daddy so desperately tried to keep under tight control until you were set free to uni, but really what is the point?

You go out three times a week, drink the same things, speak to the same people, listen to the same music and feel like you’ve run head first in to a wall the next morning, all of this costing you a small fortune while you’re at it… Great.

They’re having so much fun

Worst of all alcohol makes interesting people boring. Uni students are some of the most intelligent people in the country and a lot of the times come in to uni with hobbies, aspirations and plans to do every enjoyable activity under the sun before getting dragged into the grinding gears of the clubbing machine.

I work in clubs – I see what you’re like every other day of the week, and I still can’t understand why you do it.

Then just to add to the pity of it all, drinkers just don’t seem to understand that absolutely nobody cares how ‘cray’ last night got, what you said to the barman when he wouldn’t serve you, or how many times you puked this morning.

He got ‘cray’, did you?

It’s not conversation – it’s meaningless tripe.

Out of all this stupidity though, there are two things that drive me away from constant, excessive drinking the most: Why would you spend all your money on something which you are literally going to piss out an hour later, and not remember a bit about the whole escapade? Who in their right mind would ruin a day of potential awesomeness by feeling like death and watching the same old nonsense on Netflix?

I’ve saved a fair chunk of my student loan too, by not going out and throwing it in the face of the first bartender I see. That, plus being able to hold a job down because I’m not hungover every other day, means that you can save a surprising amount of cash.

Having a bank balance of more than £5.13 at uni opens the door to a world of opportunities for things to do that just couldn’t happen otherwise.

Yet by not drinking, suddenly the sober lot – ie anyone with half a brain – are subjected to an absolute roasting by everyone and anyone with a voicebox: “How boring is that”, “ha alright then, weirdo”

Alright, alright I admit it, getting up at six in in the morning to go and tear up mountain bike trails all day feeling fresher than a will smith t-shirt in a Febreeze factory really is much worse than dancing around monotonously for hours on end to the same old songs.

All that, and a day at mountain bike trails in Scotland only costs a fiver

I’d much rather be out enjoying myself with my friends, making new memories, rather than forgetting all that’s gone before, and finding your infinite sorrows the next morning.

It’s not even that drink is a particularly bad thing occasionally, or in moderation. A couple of beers with my mates on the beach watching the sun set? Yes please! Hike up a mountain before sunrise to get an incredible view? Put me down!

I have more fun than you, and I remember it

Unfortunately though, getting out to experience the world doesn’t seem to be a concept that most uni students up and down the country haven’t quite got their heads around yet, not unless it’s a £3000 charity gap year.

Not drinking also lets you do one thing which really tips the decision.  Driving. Who in their right mind would chose to miserably slog around the country/ to lectures/ back from social events/ to exams/ to see friends/ to play sport/ everything else in the world in the pouring rain on smelly, overcrowded and constantly late public transport?

All the while us sober people cruise past in comfort, safe in the knowledge that our petrol is being paid for by our not drinking the evening before.

Speaking of paid for, do you know that the money saved from one uni year of not drinking pays for a ten day holiday to California with a Mustang hire car?…. Well it does.

Now who’s jealous?

Really though, who am I to talk? These things all look a bit shit, not quite the same level of fun as jumping around in the same sweaty place with the same people and same tunes and remembering none of it in the morning.

Never mind me, I’ll just go back to being a bore. We’ll see whose grandkids listen for longer.