THE STRUGGLES OF BEING AN INTROVERT ON GIRLS NIGHT OUT

My idea of a great night includes white wine, a pair of reading glasses my brother refers to as “birth control,” a cozy oversized sweater and documentaries. I am the epitome of conspiracy theories and chill. So, it’s no surprise my friends have to submit a PowerPoint presentation on why I should commit to getting lit.

These are a few struggles fellow introverts can relate to on GNO:

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Ugly Duckling Syndrome

Puberty didn’t arrive until my mid-20s. As a late bloomer, I struggle pulling my tight girls night out dress over my God-given double D’s. My stealthy curvaceous figure serves as what friends consider a perfect waste of introverted blessings. 

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The Name Calling

My pro-hoe BFF says she’d be in the club half-naked regularly if she lived in NYC. “Granny panty! You are 28, not 82,” exclaimed my chicas as I attempted to cover my cleavage up a bit. Introverts easily grow red in the face from embarrassment, but the pregame is where anyone is liable to say anything. Historically, millennials always feel the need to drink before they go out drinking. 

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Removing the Security Blanket

I clung to my kimono for dear life one night, as my friends eagerly ripped me out of my comfort zone. Rule #1 is don’t block the outfit! In an effort to be a good sport, all my lacy greatness was reluctantly placed on display. Welcome to the body party.

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Carrying a Friend

Introverts hate to look messy, but our friends don’t mind. There’s a thin line between “turn up,” and drunk AF!  As we left the club, I struggled to stabilize my wobbly amiga, wearing only a little black dress and 6-inch heels. I wondered, “Why am I here?”  I successfully babysat and offered her zero judgment. Still, the outside world labeled me guilty by association.

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The Designated Driver

Introverts are the perfect socially awkward responsible friends your mami prayed accompanied you during your 20-something-year-old drunken escapades. We overanalyze everything on girls night out from the overzealous bouncer authoritatively waving his flashlight, to the woman begging for a shot from behind the rope of your section. My friends were on their 6th fruity martini, but I was sober Sally, the unofficial trusty Uber driver.

By Bianca Alysse Mercado For Latina.com