The secret life of a 21-year-old fresher

When you live with 18 year olds there isn’t as many "omg why are you doing that?" moments, but more "Christ, I used to do that" moments.

One being, keeping bottles of alcohol around as trophies for how much you’ve drank. They used to be a badge of honour when I was underage, however when you’re legal, it just shows your bad binge-ing habits. A secret that is normally between me and my bottle bin only. Not to be shared among the masses.

Gemma Collins in CBB describes the sesh-tastic events of freshers perfectly… “it’s like working 24/7, two days on the trot” (in my case a week.) I honestly can’t keep up with the amount of alcohol and substances the kids take these days, it really makes me wonder how I managed to do it before. Seven days of boozing and partying.

I’m now, (for the most part) strategic about how I choose my events. They are carefully curated by the music played, how far away it is, how expensive the night is, and of course, how close the nearest McDonald’s is. For when I want chicken selects when I call it a night a 1.30am.

Let me not lie though, I have fallen subject to FOMO and spent £50 the Saturday just gone. #AllDaRagrets

Freshers pulling tactics aren’t so refined yet. I was reminded that people do get swayed by the grinding from behind, a line similar to “you’re really fit,” then face eating afterwards – and not necessarily in that order.

Nowadays, I make an informed decision based on their chat/banter and their dancing skills, (if they haven’t got rhythm on the dance floor, they sure as hell aren’t going to have it in the bedroom – or the club toilets) and whether or not I think they’re a good human being in general. My rule of thumb is if I don’t know their surname our genitals aren’t rubbing.

The epitome of top-class student cooking is pesto pasta. It really confuses me how this is considered to be nutritional food to be consumed daily. I get comfort food every now and then, maybe when you’re having a shit day or there a devil in your uterus making it rain red, but otherwise nah mate. There’s a reason you wake up feeling shit even though you’ve had eight hours sleep. It because your food has no vegetables and you’ve only had to boil it for 8 mins and then stir in some sauce.

Now it’s only been a couple of weeks into lectures, but I’m already noticing the people that are here for the sesh life, and the sesh life only. The echoes of “first year doesn’t count” when arguing your point for someone to come on a night out, as well as #yolo (how is that even still a thing) and “live a little” reverberate against the walls. When you’ve spent the last three years calculating how much things are according to your hourly wage, your mind quickly goes to how many hours you’re going to have to work to pay for a degree you didn’t even attend.

If anything, I’m viewing being in halls at 21 as a social experiment. Alongside a budget friendly way of living. I’ve met some lovely people and have learnt a lot about this new Snapchat generation. I am now known as Aunty Bea, the woman in the flat on the top floor who wears a lot of leopard print, and berets, drinks fancy cocktails and has plenty of anecdotes from my youth to recount to the teenagers, that no-one really gives a shit about. I continue yapping on, regardless.

Send help and Negroni's x