St. Patrick's Day is, hands down, the biggest drinking day of the year...especially when one lives in a college town. I saw people completely tanked by noon and girls running around in club gear. Hello, the cottage cheese thighs that aren't that noticeable on a packed dance floor in a dimly lit club are painfully visible in the daylight. Ew.
Certain law school students were no different than the undergrads. I had to take care of one girl that I barely knew because all of her friends had deserted her when she was too drunk to stand up. Last I saw of her was that she was going home with some guys that she knew. Now, I wasn't completely sober myself, but don't drink if you can't handle your liquor. A smart woman knows to nurse one drink over the course of an evening.
Sometimes I think that God wants me to be a trophy wife. At the end of the evening, I found myself having a lengthy and sometimes very odd conversation with another one of those rich brats who doesn't think that any girl is out of his league because he thinks that every girl has a price. He spent an inordinate amount of time trying to seek validation from me, as they always do, showing me the stuff that Daddy bought him and reminding me that he comes from an affluent background. Like that shit's supposed to make me want you. I'm too mature and smart to be a golddigger. Plus, we disagreed on music, so that's an automatic strike-out.
Only 11 more days until my last great birthday. Damn, I'm old.
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