readinguni

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Types of Girls on a Night Out in Julia Roberts Films

The Runaway Bride:

This girl has thighs of steel. Whether in Oceania heels or Jester’s plimsoll’s, she’s usually more of a blur than a person but, look for whether or not she’s carrying a fresh drink.

If Yes: Then there’s a slightly disappointed boy looking for her in the crowd that she’s expertly blended herself into.

Or, a more naïve boy still waiting patiently somewhere in Wild Lime while she’s already moved on to Sobar.

Note how both of these boys will be carrying considerably lighter wallets.

If No: She’s definitely gotten with that ex you all told her not to.

Or with a randomer she’s suddenly seen more clearly under the club house lights.

Ways to help/avoid being the Runaway Bride:

1) Wear a good pair of trainers

2) Keep up with your cardio

3) Buy a burner phone so you can give a number out and negate the need to run away all together.

The Pretty Woman

The Pretty Woman is really two types meshed into one. She’s  wearing a mini skirt co-ord from Missguided in December, swears she’s not cold but shivers all the way into Switch. Throughout the night, she proceeds to get with anything that even, vaguely, resembles a boy because her new lipstick is matte and doesn’t need to be re-applied.

The biggest sign that you are a ‘Pretty Woman’

Your phone is full of week long conversations with boys you’ve met on a night out.

a) They still have +44 as their name

ai) You don’t remember their name and keep the conversation at a vague, superficial, air-able level.

Ways to help/avoid being the Pretty Woman:

1) Don’t be stingy, wear a jacket and put it in the cloak room.

2) Pray you never get mono

3) Find your Richard Gere and delete all +44’s.

Side note: The Pretty Woman can become the Runaway Bride if said boys are seen on following nights out.

The Erin Brockovitch

This girl manages to single-handedly keep track of everybody in the club. She has an up-to-date progress report on who in your group is flirting with who. A 3D, google sponsored GPS in her brain keeping all the un-civil ex’s away from each-other. A sixth sense for boys, or groups of boys, who just got paid and are feeling very attractive

To find them she looks for:

a) an overwhelming whiff of aftershave or cologne

b) a VIP booth with no more than three boys and an extremely ambitious amount of Ciroc vodka.

Moreover, the Erin Brockovitch fills you in on everything you may have missed the day after while you sit in the 24 hour Mcdonalds she uber'ed you all to with the free ride voucher she got seven months ago but never used.

Ways to help/avoid being the Erin Brockovitch:

There are none, we all would like to be her.

Despite efforts to avoid being some of these Julia Robert films, the first step to recovery is acceptance. We all need to hold our hands up and admit that, at some point, we’ve all chosen not to wear a jacket in minus degree weather because none of them went with our outfits. And we’ve all gotten with our friends to convince a boy neither of us fancied that we really were lesbians.

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Do You Want Some Light-Skin? The Ignorance Epidemic That’s Sweeping the Nation

BREAKING NEWS:

BOYS WHO WENT TO PRIVATE SCHOOLS OR ARE GENERALLY QUITE SHELTERED LOSE ALL BRAIN CELLS WHEN SOMEONE WHO RIMMEL DOESN’T HAVE A BB CREAM SHADE FOR FINDS THEM ATTRACTIVE. 

I’ve recently noticed that there’s about a 12-hour delay between a boy making an ignorant racially themed comment and a deep sense of outrage. And I’m now surprised that I’m still surprised when it happens. 

A long time ago, while living in a town famous for horses and salt, I realised that people were always going to make ignorant racially themed comments and the only thing I could do about it is be outraged for about twenty minutes, rant to my friends about it and then find supplies to build countless bridges for me to promptly walk over and get over it... like it was my problem. 

To that, I say you don’t know how much something affects you until you’re listening to someone try and make you feel special by justifying sleeping with over 50 people* by saying your the first black girl they’ve ever slept with. 

Like it’s supposed to make you feel better. 

*(live your life you do you boo, that’s not the point, sexual liberation is great and more power to you for owning your body)

Let’s imagine an award ceremony. I’m talking Academy Award level glamour. Seated in the audience at silk covered round tables are beautiful black girls in a range of designer couture custom-made gowns; they’re CEO’s, creatives, world changers. Out comes a man in white tight jeans and loafers with no socks  and he stands at the podium welcoming everyone to the IBA Awards. I win an award and step up to the podium as everyone claps.

“Thank you so much. Wow, I can’t believe this, what a dream come true. I didn’t even prepare a speech. Well, first of all, thank you to the Ignorant Boy Awards Forum Press for this amazing honour. While I was lying there, feeling super insecure and he told me I was the first black girl he’d ever slept with all I could think was, wow. This is one of those crucial moments in life when everything you’ve worked so hard for, everything you’ve striven for finally pays off. It’s honestly a privilege to be in the same category as these wonderful nominees and I will use this achievement as a platform for other aspiring black girls. ( I’ll look directly at the camera) To all of you sitting at home thinking you’ll never find an ignorant boy to make you feel special... I say keep dreaming. Keep working towards your goal and one day you’ll be up here too. Thank you guys, thank you God. I won’t forget this.”

One thing I’ve always known to be true is, the minute you stand on your soap box and stand up for yourself when ignorant people make ignorant comments you alienate those around you because it’s a reminder that they’re not as un-affected as they think they are by the world we live in. Whatever shape or form it may come in and despite any sacrifices of self worth that I have to make, others play a part in making me feel like I am less than and therefore lucky to be accepted.

It’s a pile of rancid bullshit. You have access to unlimited information in 2018, you have a working tongue to ask questions about experiences and cultures that are different to yours. Educate yourself because it’s not, and never was, my fault. 

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The Three Types of Guys You’ll Meet During Freshers Week

Oh, freshers. We’ve all been there, we’ve all gone completely against things we swore we’d always believe. More than half of you will come out of freshers week or, at least first semester, with a new piercing, tattoo or virgin-lite lingerie. In comparison to these more, permanent changes, we have the five types of guys you’ll meet during freshers week. Given time, they’ll return to rationality and logic but, during freshers week, buy extra packets of Anadin to help fight the in-surmountable headache that goes beyond freshers flue.

1. The Posh, But Trying Desperately Not To Be Posh, Twat.

Aesthetically, look out for a boy who genuinely looks like he found his clothes in the bottom of a landmine. Nothing co-ordinates nothing makes sense and, most importantly, if your eyesight is good enough, there will be a designer label hidden somewhere underneath the flannel to expose him for what he really is.

Financially, he’ll be the first in debt and the first to drop out or flunk out depending on how confident he is in the value of his dad’s properties in Dubai. Having no concept on the value of money, if/when he does earn it himself, it’ll be spent on movie memorabilia.

- Alcohol doesn’t count. We all have and always will squander our loans on the £4.50 Pinot Grigio from Tesco.

His biggest give-away however, will be in speech. To his own kind, he’ll drop back into the Queen’s English; proper use of compound adjectives and a strong command over syntactical order. Introduce anyone of colour, whether it be a girl he’s trying to impress, a group of boys he’s trying to impress, or Gigg’s rap in KMT, the ‘h’ will suddenly disappear from the word ‘thing’ and he’ll both offend you and himself by suddenly regressing to a pre-schooler’s grasp on language.

2.  The Man-Whore

He either, went to an all boys school somewhere where vaginas couldn’t be found or was never looked at twice by said vaginas while all his ‘hotter’ friends bathed in them. Since uni, and especially in the onslaught of vaginas that is freshers week, he’s now suddenly decided his name is Leonardo DiCaprio and he can only date 20 year old VS models. 

Aesthetically he’s difficult to pick out. He can range from the typical white t-shirt black jeans look to, the guy who insists on wearing a suit shirt every time he goes out because it really shows off the biceps he’s been gyming for. Yes, he calls the left one ‘Des’ and the right one ‘Troy’. One thing that will always set him apart is the cologne, be wary of an overwhelming attack of aftershave. Again, Anadin comes in handy for the impending headache. 

Financially, and as an exception to the alcohol rule, he will never get a chance to drink anything while he’s out as the majority of his money will be spent buying every single vagina that looks at him for longer than 0.00000001 seconds a drink and then following each one for as long as it either, takes him to get the hint or he convinces one to go home with him. 

 His biggest give-away will be found in his flat kitchen. Every single flat has or will have in your case, a piece of paper on a cork-board tallying up how many people each of you have slept with. His will have, by far, the most. And if his tally stops too early in the year, it’s gotten to the point where even he’s worried about both judgement and the health of his penis. 

3. The Immediate Friend-Zone

He’s the one you’ll end up making it official with come second semester but, during freshers week, one or more of you will either say he’s ‘just another one of the girls’ or ‘ It’s only [insert name here]’ when he walks in on you changing. He will, on more than one occasion, take your makeup off for you and will, on every occasion, pay for your taxi home and never remind you to pay him back.

Aesthetically, he’s the most inoffensive. He can range in attractiveness from not so much to very much, can have good taste in clothes or be just about able to scrape together one good outfit that he then wears every night out because you made one passing comment on his t-shirt. 

Financially, he manages the whole of first year without making one pot of super-noodles. He makes stew for you when you’re ill and knows that everybody steals his milk but, like the noble man he is, takes it like a champ and buys two litres. He has at least two jobs, he’s studying for a ‘proper’ job and still never says no the sesh.

His biggest give-away is how much you’ll overlook him and take him for granted. It’ll take having to deal with types one and two a great many times before you truly value type three for what he is. So, by all means, let him see you at your absolute worst in freshers week, have him pick you up from Wessex Lane after a one night stand and take you back to Glen Eyre but don’t show him how convincing your food baby is or your head gear braces from five years ago because, in around six months to a year, he’ll still have to find you attractive.  

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Types: People at Pre- Drinks In Beyonce Songs

Scared of Lonely

This person suffers from a vigorous case of FOMO. They have twenty thousand assignments due in for 4:30 AM and they're ready, drinking and talking to everyone. If you watch them carefully, you can see them look at the clock with a hint of panic about once an hour or, the braver ones bring their laptops to pre's and furiously try to finish while downing their wine.

Sorry

This is the one that's absolutely fine the entire night. Maybe she drops one drink on the floor that misses everyone and causes no damage what so ever. Nonetheless, in the morning, everyone wakes up with an effusive apology text that's appreciated but completely un-necessary.

Get Me Bodied/ Bootylicious

For this person, usually a girl called Tilly Magwaza, the English degree is just a way to kill time before Frank Gatson notices and replaces Ashley Everett, Beyonce's dance captain, with her. She dances like she's s suddenly in every  00's RnB club-based music video. Her long braids whip people behind her (which she notices but doesn't care about) the whine comes out whether or not the song suits and the gyrating hips are never forgotten. Has she mentioned her Shakira phase yet? Because she will.

Resentment

It doesn't matter who's hosting prees, everyone has that silent room-mate that never seems to see the light of day or make any sound letting you know they're alive unless they have something to complain about. In this case, the noise. But, being as passive aggressive as they are. The host just gets a text asking with perfect politeness whether or not it may be possible for the music to be potentially, maybe turned down a tad.

They're also the ones who either own and play an electric guitar at all hours of the day and night.

Or have very loud sex.

Single Ladies (Put a Ring on It)

This is the girl who says the word girls night about twenty times or minute whether or not the guy to girl ratio is in that favour. There's a million pictures that, although she swears they're different, look exactly the same and end up being copied thrice fold on Snapchat, Facebook and  Instagram. Maybe even more if said pictures are also posted by the other girls in them.

She's also the one that ends up going home with the guy she swears she doesn't like but you all know she cried about in the toilets because he didn't double tap the picture at prees on Instagram as well as Facebook.

Drunk in Love

One of them has brought their SO up to your uni for the weekend and they're glued at the hip and you're finally seeing how whipped the person you know is. And whether or not the girl or boy brings out a completely different side to them. Now for arguments sake let's say the person you know is a boy who's brought  his girlfriend up for the weekend. All of his girl mates now have to try extra hard to be super lovely to this girl just to validate how truly platonic everything is even though you do all see each other in varying states of nudity in and out of each other's beds which, at the time, doesn't really seem like a problem.

Bow Down/ Nasty Girl

This girl knows everyone, thinks she's the Queen Bey (pardon the pun) and consistently whispers insults about all the other people around the table to her Second in Command. Some of the  shade she throws is funny and you find yourself laughing despite the fact that you both probably look like bitches and, for once, looks aren't deceiving.

Broken-hearted Girl/ Independent Woman Part II

I know she's being too loud and swallowing alcohol like it's air. I know she keeps changing the song to really cringey ones that people aren't drunk enough to appreciate yet. I know she's on a completely different level to everybody else and she's already broken your favourite mug and gotten with your best mate. Yes her boobs are hanging out her top and her skirt is way too short and everyone can see her thong. But, she just got out of a relationship. Let her live.

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The +44′s

The Ones You Wake Up With

They had a kind of charm, you have to admit. Or if you don't remember meeting them, which happens to a lot of us, you can at-least assume they did. Because of the society we live in, especially as a bunch of young, self-centred and superficial youths,  attractiveness massively factors into whether or not they go from a +44 to an actual, named contact and the general equations with girls  in this instance goes something like this.

Buffness + Meanness = “ Guys do you remember the guy I went home with yesterday? Yeah I really think there's potential there, like, I'm already whipped isn't that crazy?”

Buffness+ Niceness = “ Yeah he was buff and he made me breakfast the next day and everything but...something feels off, he must be seeing someone.” *

Not so Buff + Niceness = “ Was his name Michael? I swear it was Max?”

Not so Buff + Meanness = “ There's something about him I really like, yeah I'm seeing him tonight.”

Any kind of meanness the morning after, ranging from forgetting names to kicking said girl out or taking it upon himself to leave almost completely guarantees the girl's feelings. Of course, there are exceptions; those few with high self-esteem and a healthy relationship with their father but for a majority, a boy being mean leads to what girls love to do best; gain validation, taking it upon themselves as a kind of noble, Arthurian quest to prove to, or have the +44's prove to them that their worth better treatment. But, here's the rub, once they get that validation, that +44 usually goes from a 12 to a 4. The girl can't possibly fathom why someone would find them attractive, why someone would think their worth the effort they're putting in to them. Therefore, there must be something wrong with the boy, and if there isn't, a reason will be found.

It's easier, and a lot less scary, to constantly climb the same mountain. You know the routes you know the pitfalls. It's much scarier to get to the top, to gain that validation and move on to the next mountain, the next quest; believing your worth it and trusting that-

1) that boy means it.

2) Your worth doesn't diminish once/ if he goes away.

The Ones You Gave Your Real Number To

In the heat of the moment, you gave them your real number. Or, if you didn't initially, they did that creepy thing where they text you to make sure it's your real number. Nothing says confidence than checking a girl you don't know but just swapped bacteria filled saliva with isn't doing a Jason Bourne on you.

Despite the fact that you did wake up in your own bed and blissfully alone, this +44 now has the license to contact you if ever and whenever he likes. How much worse this makes your hangover depends on how much you regret your encounter.

He was funny, a good kisser and I enjoyed talking to him

He'll probably text you along the lines of a private joke you both took too far out of fear you'd have nothing else to talk about. But, it'll be sweet and endearing and you'll keep talking. Depending on how forward one of you is, you'll end up seeing him in daylight. If you like him yay if not it's a straight-foward delete. But good luck with the next week or so of awkward run-ins where you both pretend not to see each-other until the very last moment so you only need to have a moment of interaction instead of a conversation.

He was there and he was breathing

Let's face it, you don't remember his name. You don't know what he looks like and frankly, you care more about that than his name. Just admit it, I won't judge you. He's the one you declared your bacteria swapping with in front of all your friends and repeatedly. And unfortunately, this leads them to ask  questions, pushing you to keep the conversation going even if you'd rather lose your phone for another month.

And then you have, the King of all Kings, the +44 to beat all +44s...

The Textually Impaired

Despite many messages replied to in 24 or even 48 hour intervals, he refuses to get any kind of hint.

Kisses can be unmatched, bubble text sizes can be increasingly smaller and smaller, 'lol' and 'haha' can be used for his jokes, your responses can be entirely without emoji's and his enthusiasm will never cease. In most cases, depending on how nice you are, these conversations can last weeks and even sometimes lead to relationships just from an irrelevant notion girls seem to have that they're obligated to pursue someone who, by some stroke of benevolence from God, likes them.

But, even that has its limits. The Textually Impaired will either be aired for once and for all or, a friend of theirs without said condition will tell them their efforts aren't being appreciated.

The +44s are a tricky bunch mostly because they're first interacted with under the influence of alcohol which can both lower our standards or make us braver. Sometimes, both at the same time. So, we can never be too sure whether genuine connections are possible when both parties are filled to the brim with hormones and Echo Falls summer fruits wine. With the morning sun, reality hits as it tends to and it's almost like you have to introduce yourselves again but, of course, having had sex which for some reason unknown to me makes this difficult and awkward and un-necessarily confusing.

Who would've thought.