A guy’s night out in Leeds from a girl’s perspective

If living in university halls last  year taught me anything, it’s that boys are creatures of habit. There’s a strict recipe for a “quality night”, and it goes a little something like this…

Everyone drinks Crofters Apple Cider, for some reason

The two litre bottles of cheap alcohol, which I’m sure to so many of us seems like the beverage from HELL. Forget cracking open a cold one and taking your sweet time getting intoxicated, this is a race. If it doesn’t involve necking it back and spilling half of it down the front of your shirt, is it even a proper sesh? They can also be seen creating a stack of empty Strongbow cans in their window, because obviously, that’s the prime display of masculinity.

It's not a lads night out without Ring of Fire

If the concoction in the centre of the circle isn’t debatably fatal, it probably won’t do. But we all know that despite the crazy chants of “lads lads lads”, every single person sat around the table is secretly soiling themselves at the thought of having to drink it. You can’t hide it boys, we see you.

Noise. Lots of it

The main thing about a lad’s pre drinks is that you hear it way before you see it. Not only do they need to know that they’re about to embark on a night out, but everyone in a 100km radius needs to know it too. House music threatens to pop eardrums whilst ironic dabbing occurs, and if you’re really lucky you might catch a glimpse of the almost-adults, trying to create an optical illusion on Snapchat to find the perfect bicep angle.

The prowl

Pre's are over, and its finally time to head to the club. Cue, the eye roll of pretty much every single girl in attendance. Red Stripe in hand, artfully jelled hair set to go, they begin to hover. Don’t try to deny it lads, we know the game plan. Make eye contact with any girl in the premises. I’ve got news for you – putting your hand on a girl’s waist completely out of the blue, plied with the offer of a VK and a gaff with a “good distance for a walk of shame” (no, not made up), isn’t your best bet for the pull. If you wouldn’t creep on a girl like that in Sainsbury's, you shouldn’t do it anywhere.

So. Many. Selfies

The guys are there, and they’re settled. After multiple failed attempts to get a girl to sit on their shoulders (no, it isn’t comfortable, and yes, I have only just met you), they begin the Snapchat/Instagram documentation. I can’t count the number of times I’ve been called basic for snapping some pics when I get to the club, but you can stop the eye rolls right there. You do realise we see you, aiming your phone above the crowd, videoing a hundred heads bobbing amidst the strobe lights?

As they lie in bed the next morning beside a cold kebab, scrolling through their stories, they sigh to themselves. Yes. Quality night.

Photo credits: Mission Facebook Page by Daniel Watson, Sticky Feet Facebook page by www.liamgoodyear.com, Fruity Facebook page