The idea of partying vs the reality of it
Romanticizing the perfect night - and facing the awkward truth instead.
I went to a birthday party on Saturday. It was more like a pre-party, where people drink and hang out before heading to a club. This is super common in Chile, and we call it a “Pre.”
Pre’s are my favorite because they involve going out but earlier. Everyone drinks, has fun, and then heads to the club while I get to go home. I can be in bed early - honestly, that sums me up as a person.
As I’ve mentioned, I don’t drink, and I’m not a fan of parties. But when I have a social event, I burn so much energy just preparing for it. I overthink everything: what to wear (I don’t buy night-out clothes because I rarely go out, so I have to piece together outfits from my regular wardrobe), how to get there (subway, Uber, or car), and which version of myself I need to be for this event. I think about who will be there, what topics I’ll have to navigate, and how to dodge conversations I don’t want to have. I even rehearse how to redirect discussions if I need to.
Of course, as soon as I arrive at the pre-party, the same thing happens every time: “Are you coming to the club after?” My answer is always no - I don’t enjoy being crammed into a space with loud music and no room to breathe. But people are so persistent. They’ll ask me over and over again, as if the 20th time will magically change my mind.
Before, it was always, “Why aren’t you drinking?” Now it’s, “Why aren’t you going to the club?” It’s relentless. I always have to explain: no, I don’t drink; no, I’m not Mormon; no, I’m not boring; I just genuinely don’t enjoy it. I’ve never understood why people can’t take “no” for an answer - or why I have to keep explaining myself to the same people.
Getting ready is fun, though. It’s exciting to put on makeup and try to look nice for a change. While I’m getting ready, I even convince myself I should do this more often. But fast forward a couple of hours into the night, and I’m counting down the minutes until I can leave. By then, I’ve answered the same questions too many times, and my initial polite laugh has turned into quiet frustration. These people are supposed to know me - why do we keep having the same conversation?
It always plays out the same way. I start the night full of hope, imagining it’ll be amazing: everyone will love my outfit, we’ll laugh nonstop, and I’ll go home feeling accomplished for spending quality time with friends. But, of course, that never happens. Instead, I end up staying too long because I’m afraid of the “Why are you leaving already? Stay a little longer!” comments. I can’t say no to that, so I stick around even when I’ve had enough. Another red flag.
When I’m with my closest friends, though, it’s completely different. No one judges me for not drinking or leaving early. I can relax, have a funny cocktail, and even get a little tipsy without worrying about being judged or pressured. I can say whatever comes to mind, and none of them will make me feel bad for it. It’s effortless.
I guess the takeaway here is that I’m not a party person. But somehow, I still invent these fairy tales for every outing, convincing myself that this time will be different - that it’ll be the best night ever. Maybe one day I’ll stop chasing the fairy tale. Or maybe I’ll just get better at leaving when I want to.