Meditations on Undergrad IV: Sh*t Wake Forest Alumni Say

“Y’all talkin’ ‘bout them glory days?” (actual quote)

“Gotta make a Bud Light run!”

“I slept in Calloway for a week during exams junior year.”

“You’ve NEVER been to Lovefeast?!”

“Bless her heart, she went to a state school.”

“When I was your age, we went to the Orange Bowl.”

 “Elon and High Point are so pretentious.”

“I was completely devastated when they cut down the trees on the Quad.”

“Nothing like the Dixie Classic to remind you what normal people look like.”

“ROMNEY/RYAN 2012.”

 “Remember when Subway was only open until 2 am?”

“I’m going to start tailgating five hours before kickoff, but I’ll be home by the time the game starts.”

“I forgot how much I hate critter pants.”

 “F***ing Jimmy Newman.”

The Camelbak, or I Still Hate Nature

A few weeks ago I went to Bed Bath & Beyond and purchased a new water bottle. I’m such a ridiculous cheapskate that shelling out $15 for a stupid purple Camelbak seemed exorbitant (passing over the fact that I also bought at least 4 refills for my Yankee Candle air freshener, because I have a problem). The Camelbak has a straw and a special top that’s supposed to prevent you from spilling, but thus far it’s mainly prevented me from drinking. It’s fortunate that I’m not actually taking the bottle on a hike like you’re supposed to, because I would die of dehydration within a day. Huffing and puffing away at this thing in class is bad enough, when I start attracting looks and realize that this water bottle has become the latest addition in the ode to ineptitude that is my life. Perhaps there is some leftover vodka gumming up the works, but who can say.

When I bought the water bottle, I found myself thinking of my best friend Rachel, who also has a Camelbak and actually uses it while pitting herself against forces of the wild. She has been living in New Zealand since February, hiking and camping and being adventurous, whereas I have a serious aversion to being in such intimate contact with nature. When Rachel and I both studied abroad in Christchurch, I was 20 and I kind of struggled with that: I didn’t want to be lame and stay home. Now at the ripe old age of 23, I’m fine with being lame. If God had intended me to sleep outside and pee behind trees, he would have made me more impervious to cold. Nevertheless, I thought of Rachel’s Camelbak’s intrepid spirit and realized that the most dangerous place I’ll be taking this baby is I-40 in downtown Winston-Salem at rush hour.

Speaking of danger, an organization I’m part of at school is holding some team-building event in November which I have recorded in my planner as “Team thing in the woods” (or as I like to read it: “Plan to be sick that day”). My sole interaction with this event will be collecting the participants’ checks; I’m the organization’s treasurer because apparently I hate myself. But not enough to go interact with the great outdoors, because I’m going to be sick that day. Fighting with this vodka residue is really wearing me out.

How to Remain Sophomoric at Weddings

Inasmuch as I am 23 years old and fighting maturity tooth and nail, I have spent a large chunk of time over the past few years being shocked that people my age are getting married. Last time I checked I was ten years old and playing with Barbies at the neighborhood pool, only to hear a kid from school say to me, “Barbies? You’re too old to play with those!” And thus, my inability to both be cool and keep with my peers was established. I manage to fake it these days; I have my own car and an adult apartment, I am in a graduate program that often drives me to weep and/or drink, I’m addicted to caffeine, and I have somehow become involved a functional relationship, though fortunately with someone who also thinks growing up is overrated. But nowhere is my charade of sophistication as challenged as when I’m sitting in a church for a wedding, especially one whose bride and groom are (brace yourself!) younger than I am. How did this happen?

I have attended two such weddings in the past five months. I want to be clear that in all seriousness, I am awe of anyone who feels equipped to make a commitment of such magnitude, and it gives me chills to be in the presence of a brand-new marriage, before conflict and selfishness come into play. It’s really a beautiful thing. And part of me questions whether I’ll ever be part of something like that, and if I could handle it.

So instead of allowing my friends’ vows to suck me down a vortex of existential questioning, because Lord knows my grad program does that for me at least twice a week anyway, I choose to focus on how to make the whole wedding-guest experience as palatable as possible. (Should any of my married friends read this, I hope you know that I respect you a ton and wish you the best; and that if I attended your wedding, I absolutely enjoyed it.) However, for people like me, who spend no small part of the wedding secretly losing it, I have some tips for survival (i.e., denial).

1. Sit with cool people at the wedding.

By cool people, I mean people whose attitudes are identical to yours, or best summed up as simultaneously congratulatory and terrified. As the giggles and inappropriate jokes reach a certain volume, someone is bound to whisper, “Shhh, guys! We are being ‘those people’ at this wedding!” And if you look around and realize that everyone is totally ok with being “those people,” then you have found your wedding buddies, my friend.

2. Remind yourself of what other stuff is happening today.

A good way to do this is to come prepared with an ESPN ScoreCenter app on your boyfriend’s phone so you can watch your football team lose in real time. (On the drive to the church, we listened to the game on the radio, and I like how even the commentators are surprised when Wake Forest defense does something right.)

3. Drink.

Both the aforementioned weddings had dry receptions. There are plenty of good reasons not to have alcohol at your wedding reception—for one, it’s damned expensive, and if you have conservative family members whose resistance would not be worth fighting, then I totally understand just bagging the bar. However, this is no reason for the guests to actually be sober. Some of us brought tiny liquor bottles in our bags; some of us stopped at a drugstore on our way from the wedding to the reception and picked up champagne and orange juice. Some of us even did both, though you will not catch me saying so in print. (When we walked into that CVS to find a bunch of old classmates and fellow wedding guests doing exactly what we were, I said, “I’ve never been prouder to be a Demon Deacon.” And I meant it.)

4. Make a game out of item #3.

Boyfriend and I have been together six months. Apparently our relationship is at the point where people think it’s funny/acceptable to ask when our wedding will be, although anyone who knows us is aware that the word “wedding,” when brandished in our direction, strikes us both with selective deafness. If this is you too, don’t be alarmed. Just decide that for every person who makes such a remark, you’ll take a shot later. All I have to say is, I am dating a genius.

I’m really hesitating to post this because I don’t want it to seem like I’m attacking people who are engaged or married, or even people who don’t experience anxiety at weddings. And if that’s you, that’s great, it really is. But I hope people who know me will understand that for some of us, the thought of marriage is pretty scary, and the way I deal with that is by making jokes and taking things lightly.

So don’t be offended if I pregamed your wedding reception. At the end of the day, I was very happy that you chose to include me on your wedding day, and I prayed for a strong, lifelong commitment for both of you.

And then I had a beer. Because maturity and reverence will never take me alive.