Thought Catalog

I have many memories of stepping into a skin tight dress, sliding on laughably high heels, and tottering through a dusting of snow with my girlfriends on our way to a college party. The party, thrown by a group of men (boys?) on campus, was always listed and always almost full. So we would wait outside in New England winter while a washed up bouncer slowly ticked through our names, consulting his Guest List of Power. It was worth the wait, though, because once inside we would be showered with free (priceless?) vodka and male attention (sometimes). Except one day it started not being worth it, and every time I forced my body into my Saturday night best I felt sad and disgusted. But that was the culture, so I sucked it up (and in) and followed the scent of desperation to the nearest party.

Now I have one semester…

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