A Girl's Typical Train Of Thought On A Night Out

Girls tend to typically have the same train of thought on a girls night out. I'm sure you can empathize with a few of the following situations and multiple dilemmas.

You've just arrived at your friend's house. Stroll in the door, say hi to her parents as if they were your own. Run up the stairs and before you even say hello you're already head first in her wardrobe. Why is it that your friends always have the nicest clothes? I never have anything to wear, I've been wearing the same dress for the last three nights, mixing it up with different shoes and accessories in hope that no one will notice. Just the sight of her closet makes you feel like a celebrity.

You've shaved your legs and they're smooth as f*ck. A dress it is, it'd be a shame not to, a crime in fact. Everyone loves a bit of leg, and you're hoping for the shift tonight too so it'll probably help.

Ok, outfit done. You proceed to start doing your make-up. Effort, but it has to be done. How come someone hasn't invented a machine to do it for you at this stage? Come on, botox and ass implants exist, yet a self make-up applicant machine doesn't? We're not all a Kardashian who can afford to have our own make-up artist at hand with a click of our fingers. Maybe I could do it? I'd be rich. Write that down so you remember in the morning.


Then it begins, you've had one glass of vino and you instantly remember something you've been told not to tell anyone but you continue to include everyone else in anyway. It'll be fine, sure who are they going to tell? This one tiny drop of gossip quickly unfold into an on-running debate about whether you should take that job in House of Fraser or just accept that you're going to become a stripper. The prospect of all that money is really starting to sound appealing to you.

You've just painted your nails and you've done a really good job. And of course, 2 minutes later your bladder decides it needs the loo. But your nails aren't dry yet? Sh*t.

You're more than half way through your drink now and you're not even close to tipsy yet. Have I drank so much my tolerance has improved? Is that a good thing or a bad thing? Better drink some more. Pass me my wine bitch.


5 minutes later..

The music is blaring, you're definitely on your way, and then Iggy Azaela comes on. You automatically transform into a black woman and proceed to sing along to all the lyrics of 'Fancy'. I sound f*cking amazing.

Oh yeah, I'm buzzing now.


F*ck, you've just checked the status of your Hailo taxi. It's going to be here in 5 minutes. What to do? Shots. You have a plastic bottle filled with the rest of your drink at the ready and you've just applied your lippy. Let's go.

You're in the taxi and you've asked Mr Taxi Man to kindly turn the radio on. Beyonce - Unreal. Why don't I sing professionally? Why am I still in college when I could be doing what Queen Bey does? The taxi man is clearly loving it too.

You're out of the taxi now. You say goodbye to Frank and wish him luck explaining to his daughter he wasn't able to get her the birthday present she asked for. Plastic bottle in hand and you shimmy on down the alley to finish the rest of your drink before you have to join the dreaded queue. Better pee while I'm down here too. Sh*t, I really hope no one can see me..


After a quick shake n' dry you stroll up to the queue rustling around your bag to try and find your I.D. Hang on..

You're in. First stop, the bar.

You've just ordered your vodka cranberry before spotting Ridey Ride McRiderson to your right. You don't want to speak to him, you've only just arrived and you want to see what else is on offer. If that goes south I'll come find you later, I'll let you buy me a drink.


Drink in hand, to the dance floor you go. You and your friends have strategically formed a circle of security, all your bags are dumped into the middle. Such a relief, that bag was definitely the reason you were feeling off balance. Now, time to own this dance floor. I look so hot right now.

But in fact, you look like this..

Better drink some more vodka.

You're out in the smoking area with a few of the girls. You see a group of guys approaching, you all get chatting with one another. After 2 minutes you're bored. It's a shame the personality doesn't match their looks, they had potential. Hmm.. Need to pee again.


So you and two of the of the girls have managed to squeeze into the one cubicle. Where there's a will, there is most definitely always a way. You're all in the middle of much needed DMC and some inconsiderate wagon is outside banging on the door with her pal. Calm the f*ck down. I'm nearly done.

A quick reapplication of some powder, lippy and mascara and you're ready to go. Better get the shift before I leave, I look unreal.

So Ridey Ride McRiderson is no where to be seen. You've come to the conclusion you're going to end up alone, you'll have 27 cats, a fish and a never ending supply of Ben & Jerry's ice-cream. Doesn't really seem all that bad does it?


You come back to find that one of the girls has disappeared with the guy she's been playing tonsil tennis with for the whole night. It's grand, she'll be fine. Another is having a power nap in the corner of the dance floor. It's grand, she'll be fine. Your mate wants to get another drink but funds are low. It's pretty late now and everyone's agreed to bail. Nice one, I've been dying for a 3 in 1 the whole night.

After you've finished demolishing the best 3 in 1 you've had in your life all you want to do is crawl into your bed. You carefully get up and you all start making your way towards the taxi rank. Your feet are that sore they've gone numb. Your knee is bruised. How and when did that happen? Walking is so strenuous at the moment that you literally can't even.

You have a little snooze in the taxi and before you know it you're right outside your front door. I dread this every night out. The cautious walk across the stones, trying to make as little noise as possible. You've successfully opened the door and placed your keys back in your bag. It's all going well until you knock over the umbrella standing in the corner. Your automatic reaction is to shush everything. Why does everything have to make so much noise? Things are so loud, how rude.


Ahh.. Bed. My trusted friend, full of satisfaction and dreams. Smother me in pillows and I'm your forever.

The next morning is always the toughest part of a night out. Your head is spinning and your vision is so blurry there's a strong possibility you're still drunk. Where's the dog, I need attention and love, lots of attention and love.

Enjoy the long weekend, and whatever you do don't succumb to this sort of carry-on. No shame.

Sarah Finegan

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