by Anna Breslaw

 

Expectation: The drinkz will flow endlessly. Reality: The mixers will run out and you’ll have to make a weird cocktail out of something in the person’s fridge.

 

1. Expectation: You get a Facebook invitation to the blowout party of the year, hosted by the hot guy you were in love with in college. 

Reality: You get a Facebook invitation to the little bar birthday party of an acquaintance whose vomit you helped clean out of a car once. 

2. Expectation: You pick your outfit — exactly the one Laney Boggs comes down the stairs in in She’s All That — days in advance in order to wow everyone. 

Reality: You realize the first outfit you picked is way too fancy and trade down for a pair of barely trying jeans and a plain tee that you later realize has a mustard stain on the nipple area so that’s cool. 

3. Expectation: You get the perfect amount of buzzed with your friends before you show up. 

Reality: Your friends can’t make it to the pregame hangout, so you have three glasses of white wine by yourself and remember that you did not have dinner yet. 

4. Expectation: You show up at the perfect time. 

Reality: You either show up too early (two other people are there, none of you know each other, and you are all awkwardly attempting to make conversation while not eating too many Doritos and trying to monopolize your common friend’s attention) or too late (everyone’s hammered, someone is passing around a mysterious vaporizer that you have the sober sense you should not smoke from, and a drunk guy at your table that nobody seems to know just stood up and screamed “Play ‘Don’t Stop Believing!’” at nobody.) 

5. Expectation: You spend the night on the sofa bantering about movies, music, and sex with a friend’s hot friend. 

Reality: You spend the night having 2,485,792,768 identical conversations (“Hey, oh my god, it’s been forever, are you still at the same job, we should hang out this week, OK, I’m gonna go get a drink, see you later!”) with people you do not care about. Oh, and there is no room on the sofa. Obviously. 

6. Expectation: You are having the ~*~*~*~time of your life*~*~~*! Toniiiiight, you are youuuuung! So let’s set the world on fiiii-iiire! 

Reality: You are in a bathroom line (for a bathroom that does nothave toilet paper anymore but you don’t know that yet), wishing you were at home with no pants on, binge-watching Orange Is the New Black. 

7. Expectation: Your BFF will be there when you get there, and at the very least you can talk to her all night. 

Reality: Your BFF sends you an apologetic text within the first ten minutes of your arrival at the party that she won’t be able to make it. For the rest of the night people will be like “Aww, where’s Marissa??” and you’ll start getting overly sensitive that people only invited you in the first place so that Marissa would come. 

8. Expectation: The drinkz will flow endlessly. 

Reality: The mixers will run out and you’ll have to make a weird cocktail out of something in the person’s fridge. (Tequila and off-brand Dr. Pepper! Why not? Aside from, you know, all the reasons.) 

9. Expectation: At a reasonable hour you will fetch your coat and bail after a few thorough rounds of good-byes. 

Reality: At 2 a.m., you will say good-bye to one person who doesn’t even hear you over Lil Wayne, think, Screw it, and go upstairs to get your coat from the bed where all the coats are. 

10. Expectation: Nobody is having sex on your coat. 

Reality: Two people are having sex on your coat. 

11. Expectation: You will leave early and get a lift home with a cheerful friend who didn’t want to drink anyway. 

Reality: You will walk back to the car with your friend who’s annoyed that she got stuck being the designated driver. 

12. Expectation: You’ll wash your face, and go to bed with a face that’s clean and pure as the driven snow. 

Reality: You’ll pass out with a full face of makeup on and wake up looking like a raccoon prostitute. 

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Op-ed pieces and contributions are the opinions of the writers only and do not represent the opinions of Y!/YNaija.