There’s more to uni than going out and drinking

University. A land of opportunity, learning and newfound independence.

But rather than the work, the societies, or exploring the function of the kitchen for the first time, what appears to be the main focus of many university students?

Drinking. Going out.

There is this inherent pressure to get as drunk as possible, so that you’re having as much fun as possible.

But why does one equal the other?

Why has getting drunk and partying become the focus of university life when it means that the balancing act of everything else becomes more precarious?

How is it that if you get so drunk you throw up, forget the night and have a hangover the next day, you’re living life to the full? When did the cream of British society put this first?

All the way through my application process, the opportunities for going out and drinking were reiterated with great regularity. But what happens to the people who don’t drink?

Not having much experience going ‘out out’, or as a drinker, I started to worry about starting university. Not about my course, but about fitting in.

The majority of Fresher’s events seemed based on nights out and ‘piss ups’ and that made me feel uncomfortable.

Already, without meeting anyone, I felt the weight of expectation on my shoulders. Not only did the course expect a certain level of behaviour from me, but the culture surrounding university life did.

During that fresher’s week, not brave enough to venture out of my comfort zone, I sat in my room watching films with my friend, thankful I had found someone just like me. As the year went by, I gained a little more courage until one fateful evening: I caved under peer pressure.

Sitting with my flatmates around the kitchen table, I decided to join in on the drinking. The alcohol was pretty strong, and I drank a lot. It’s safe to say- it hit me like a wrecking ball.

At first it was fun.

We played cards and laughed as our chit-chat began to slur into drunken babble. All was great, until the alcohol decided to vacate my stomach northwards.

I babbled my excuses and belted it down the stairs, trying to make it to the bathroom…I didn’t. I chundered.

Once over the wrong (and locked) door, then again- redecorating the floor of the bathroom. Someone (bless their heart) took me to my bed before I could do any more ‘redecorating’. My face hit the pillow and I was out for the count.

The next day, my hangover was so bad that I thought my brain needed replacing. Lectures were missed, food was shunned- along with light and any physical activity. If this was the student life, I certainly didn’t want it.

But somehow, I had gained respect from my housemates. After voluntarily sacrificing my dignity, compromising my learning and subjecting myself to utter misery, I gained respect.

Why is this the standard you need to follow to be considered a ‘proper student’?

We should not be spending all of our money and risking our livers on blurry nights out. What is more, universities should not expect or encourage that. It’s not enough to hold organised activities in bars and clubs and expect the non-drinkers to feel comfortable there.

We may not be a majority, and we may not speak up very often, but we’re still here- so cater to us for a change.

Let’s change the attitude that the best times are had when drinking. Let’s focus on managing our money effectively and doing the best we possibly can in our degree – which is, unless you’ve forgotten, the entire reason we’re here.