I never intend to drink so much in the beginning, does anyone? But pre-drinking 2 ciders and 4 shots on an empty stomach is never the way to go. So we get to the club at midnight and have another 2 vodka and cokes because they're only £2 each and my friends owe me drinks. By this point my vision is blurred and there is what I think might be a really attractive guy giving me the eye.Sleaze. I collapse on to the sofa in a fit of giggles as a couple of my friends are taking selfies of their best sexy faces. I neck my drink because I think it might stop me thinking about the presentation I have to give tomorrow and the assignment that I need to hand in at 10am. For a little while, I'm having a great time.
The club rooms open and we all squeal and jump up tottering towards the sound of David Guetta, or it might have been Nicki Minaj I couldn't care less, I just want to dance. The room is smoky and I can't see properly, the dancefloor lights up 70s style and me and the girls are dancing in our own little circle. Various sleazy men try and dance with us, I keep an eye on everyone and I'm fully prepared to take a swing at somebody if they try anything with my friends.
More shots and WKDs later somewhere around 2.30am I start to feel nauseous and I can barely stand up. I wander over to one of the couches and collapse onto it breathing heavily and I'm disorientated by the bright lights and heavy bass. It's at that point that it hits me, what am I doing here? I don't particularly want to be here, I shouldn't have come out. It was fun at the start, it always is. But then the reasons that you were drinking come in to play and you find yourself feeling worse if you were doing it for the wrong reasons anyway.
I'll never learn.
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