This night will be a classy night. I promise. It will end politely. I’m at the go-to bar with friends, taking in the scenery. I’m looking at the beer selection and I’m observing the boy selection. I spot a fine flock of plaid-wearing beard-men opposite the beer taps. My group approves as we stake our  booth.

I venture forth and approach the bartender. Our eyes meet, and he knows my beer. I nod. No words exchanged.

Tess Johnson

I trace the wood carvings of the counter, sipping my beverage coolly in hopes that this will begin to resemble a scene in a Zooey Deschanel movie. Perhaps one of these scruffy fellows will find me charming because of my vintagewear. I straighten my belt and realize these stiff, leather heels aren’t very comfortable, so I’ll take a whiskey-soda.

Okay, that’s better. I start to stare at random things and feel instantly nostalgic and quite wise. I have genius revelations about life and love.

You know, marble is gorgeous. People have nice eyes. That sort of thing. Soon, the friend-hugging begins. I love them all, I love them all.

I know this boy — one I should probably never text again. Two drinks later, and HE TOTALLY WANTS TO HEAR FROM ME. I just know he does. Really.

Now, I’m in the bathroom, checking my lipstick, pawing at my bangs. My self-esteem is taking off without reason, like a baby bird trying to leave the nest before its time. Suddenly I find my own reflection awesome and attractive. “Hey there…” I think, winking. “You’re valid and good looking. If he doesn’t agree, he’s just … well, he’s a butt-head.” I exit with a new mindset. Back at the table, and things are just swell. Everyone looks like they’ve been drinking love potion. Nothing could go wrong.

Then a song comes on that reminds me of a stupid month I had with a boy I thought I was in love with a year ago or something. So of course I have to grab my friend so we can cry about it in the bathroom.

Feelings. They always mean bathroom. But when the feelings are over, oh man, I love this song! I don’t even mind Journey! Journey is fun!

I suddenly feel like shoes are too constraining. Why do people even wear shoes?

And you know, dancing with a stranger is probably the best idea- the only idea! Let’s dance with a stranger. But oh, it’s last call?

Let’s go skinny dipping. Seriously, let’s! Nobody will regret this tomorrow at all. Everything that is normally terrible for me/ has ranch dressing should be right here, right now, just for me.

Oh my god, sweet potato fries. IHOP’s menu looks pornographic. But it’s getting late, or early, depending on how you look at time. And nobody can find a pool to skinny dip, so let’s just lay in this grass and hold hands. “I love you all,” I say.

I’m thinking about you, alcohol, you fickle friend. You confuse me, and you sometimes get me into trouble. But you make me damn honest.

“Maybe everyone is my soulmate,” I think. And you know what? Maybe they are.

— Tess Johnson is a senior from Savannah majoring in anthropology