You really weren’t lying about peer pressure, Mom.
It’s impossible to deny.
We’ve all played the ‘how far can my eyes roll back into my head game‘ as our parents lectured us about making our own choices and remembering that “just because our friends jump off a bridge doesn’t mean we have too”. Naturally, we let their warnings roll off our shoulders and into our dress that’s a little too short and our shoes that are a little too high.
We go out with our friends we have known since we were in primary school and have our hand on the doorknob of our home by approximately 11:59 p.m., a solid 60 seconds before curfew. The next morning your mom asks you where you went and what you guys did and you tell her you just hung out at a friends house and forget to add that you drank a few beers and even played spin the bottle with some boys that were there.
No harm, No foul. Right?
Sure. So naturally, when the time comes to choose a college you decide to get as far away from your question asking, assumption assuming, overbearing parental figures. You began to realize that in a few short months you will no longer have to answer your parent’s pre or post party questions. You move into college, say farewell to your old life, and are immediately introduced to thousands of possible party pals.
And you go out for the first time…
You slip into the even shorter short dress and strap on the even higher high heels, because why not? You go out with girls in equally shorter dresses with names you can’t really remember and attempt to make friends over disco lights and all night karaoke. You take cute pics for Instagram, and for a second you even forget that you just met these girls last week. They seem to be enjoying your company, and they ask you to join in on something you’ve never tried or even heard of before.
It’s like they sense your fear.
They saw the way your eyes darted back and forth when they asked, and they begin to tell you all the reasons you should and all the good times you could have together if you did. You began to realize that while you don’t know these girls last names, you also don’t know their moral integrity or lack thereof. But you don’t have another ride back home tonight and your mom is too far away to come to pick you up.
So maybe you jump off the bridge.
Maybe you wipe the worried look from your face and give in to the pleading and nudging. But maybe you don’t. Maybe you say no and spend the rest of your night looking for a ride home.
Either way, you’ll feel it.
The longing for an old friend back home whose idea of a party was being a little tipsy and kissing an old crush in spin the bottle, or maybe a warm bed to crawl into at 11:59 p.m., or maybe even a mom who cared enough to remind you of the things you hadn’t quite grown to understand. The next morning you will call your mom to tell her the story of where you went and what your friends did, and she once again reminds you.
“Just because your friends jump off a bridge doesn’t mean you have too.”
And for some reason, this time it makes a little more sense.
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