Washington D.C., 2:26 AM

Dancing Instead of Thinking

I became a bit of a party girl during my junior year of college. From October to March, I was out and about. For the life of me, you could not catch me at home. In a way, I think I needed it. I had to get that itch out of my system.

They say you are the ten people you choose to surround yourself with. I had surrounded myself with individuals who weren’t actually my friends; they were more of my faux than my natural. The friends of circumstances, proximity, and shared weekends.

They were the party friends. The friends I would go out with every single weekend. The friends who knew how to party it up, who would turn every dinner into “let’s go back to my place, get ready, take a shot, and go out to the clubs.” The first few times, it felt thrilling, enticing, and perhaps even liberating, but it wasn’t sustainable.

However, it taught me to live a little. Have fun, you only live once. I have always been a bit of a homebody. What can I say, I like my own space. It is the only child in me.

In the span of five months, I had the routine down to a science. Relax, take it easy, and get your schoolwork done. Have a nice light dinner, get dressed in your ‘going-out’ outfit, put on your most worn-out pair of shoes, grab an Uber or bus, and headout to your friend’s apartment for a pregame.

I remember the first time I truly went out was to a Kaytranada rave on a Sunday night in what was probably the most sketchiest part of Washington. (I was convinced I was going to get robbed, really glad I didn’t). It started at 12:45 am, and I had a 9:45 statistics class the next morning. I remember coming home at 3:15 am and still getting up to go to my three classes the next day. Needless to say, I was very proud of myself.

It felt weird to me, like an out-of-body experience. I had never done anything like it. At the same time a part of me felt like I wanted to do it again. For the fun of it. It finally felt like I was living that college lifestyle that I had yearned for all along.

Living in Washington, D.C., especially in your early twenties as a college student is such a fascinating time. By day, I walked past motorcades on my way to class. By night, I was in line at Decades, waiting to be let into a room pulsing with music that I would later pretend I liked more than I did.

While I was always down to hit a good beat, I was always aware of my surroundings. Was always very cautious especially when it came to drinking in places I knew that I was vulnerable as a female. While I would have a drink in my hand, I would never finish it. I was always the sober friend.

I was like that party girl who never quite let go. Drink in hand, rarely finished. Always aware of exits. To an extent, I was fine with that.

Everyone would often ask me, “How can you have that much fun without hardly drinking any alcohol?” I would often respond by saying, “I am Pakistani, we can dance and party in our sleep.”

I often got weird stares from that comment, but I didn’t care; I was just being myself.

I suppose that mindset has to come from my upbringing. Growing up, my baba basically drilled in my head, “always remember nothing good happens after ten pm.” While I believe that you should still go out and enjoy your life, to an extent, that is correct.

They always say to trust your gut. Here is the thing: I was never truly comfortable or at ease with the people I was going out with. Just felt like we were very different people. It seemed like we had very different priorities.

I wasn’t chasing alcohol. I was chasing a version of myself I thought I was supposed to become.

For me, going out was experiencing a life I had never seen before. A life at two am, a life where everyone was in their own world, but it wasn’t sustainable to keep up with.

Just like that, in a span of five short months, my party girl days were over, those friends had soon left my life, and that chapter had become a blur. One thing about that chapter in my life is that I learned a lot about myself. It taught me that lessons don’t just happen in the classroom; they happen in real life, too.

While those friends didn’t stay in my life for the long term, they taught me to get out of my comfort zone, experience life outside my daily norm, and just let loose and live a little.

It would be a crime to say that I don’t go out that much anymore. (I don’t), But that chapter of my life taught me how to go out. I have become more mindful about who I go out with now and when I do. I know just what to expect because in those five months, I have experienced it all.

Those five months didn’t make me wild. They made me aware. Aware of who I am at 2 A.M. Aware of who waits for me. Aware of who doesn’t. Aware that I can visit certain versions of myself without becoming them.