My Boyfriend Didn’t Kill the Party Girl Inside of Me

By: Stella Speridon-Violet

For women in their twenties, getting a boyfriend often means social suicide and a life-long sentence to weekend nights spent inside, but it doesn’t have to. 

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This is still so new to me, and contrary to popular belief, I don’t share everything on the internet, but today I feel like telling the world: I have a boyfriend, and I still go out every weekend. 

Since the dawn of time, well… my time, I’ve been single… well, unless you count the two boyfriends I loosely had in high school or my 4-year-long situationship I had, also during high school and the beginning of college. But, to be honest, I wasn’t fully capable of being emotionally available with any of them, so in my book, it doesn’t count.   

I’ve always been the kind of girl to value my female friendships more than my romantic endeavors and put the effort into cultivating these relationships that I know will pass the test of time. I’ve always been the one to make plans and never say no to a night out, a thrift day, or anything and everything in between. 

Friends in long-term relationships would live vicariously through my weekly escapades and hours-long FaceTime calls, talking about this week’s latest scandal, wishing their shitty boyfriends wouldn’t be so boring and only want to hang out with them on the weekends so they could join me in my adventures. 

I’d always hang up or leave a hangout with said friends and silently shudder at the thought that one day, that would inevitably be my reality. 

I mean, I’d see it happen almost every time; it quickly became a tale as old as time: 

One of my friends would get a boyfriend, and it was like they moved to a deserted island with shitty wifi. Sure, we’d FaceTime and catch up, and maybe once every few months we’d go thrifting and get a coffee, but friendship was always put on the back burner.  

My friends in relationships would tell me they were “happy” spending all of their free time with their boyfriends and that I, too, one day, would understand when I found this great and all-consuming “love.” 

But, if that’s what love looked like: friendless, all-consuming, unmotivating, complete dedication to another with nothing in return, I didn’t want it. It sounded like my version of hell on earth, the ultimate form of losing a piece of myself and my dignity, for someone whom I’d barely know but could offer me frequent sex. 

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So, I decided to stick to what makes me happy: Going out every weekend, passing the Bechtel test, and feeling like I’m on top of the world with my friends. I have hobbies of my own, a good job, with no need to rely on a man for virtually anything. 

I mean, I was even celibate for two years in college after a terrible two-month-long situationship where the man kept calling my room “our room,” and basically emotionally suffocated me out of attraction.  

After the first three months of complete removal of men, I mean no dating apps, no talking to guys at parties, nothing. I realized my life drastically improved, no unnecessary worries, I went to bed at a decent hour, and I was on the dean’s list every semester. 

Eventually, after two years, I caved and redownloaded Hinge. I casually dated around, but always emphasized that I was not free on the weekends (dedicated friendship time) and that I was not looking for anything serious, and I meant it.

I mean, it’s always been hard for me to connect with men on a level beyond physical if I’m being honest. I didn’t want anyone to fall in love with me; I didn’t want to have weekly sleepovers and share secrets, because I already had friends who I could go to for all of these things, and honestly, every guy I had met had either bored me to death or was weird as hell. 

My friends would equate my dating style to that of a man’s. They’d ask me for advice on how to “not care,” and honestly, the answer is familial trauma and two years of good ol’ fashioned celibacy. Two things my friends did not want to tap into, understandably. 

So as I carried on this emphasis on friendship and men occasionally, the weirdest thing happened. I became friends with a group of guys my age. 

If you had told me a year ago that this would be my life, and that they are actually all nice, respectful, and funny, I would have laughed in your face. It still doesn’t feel real.

One of them began dating my friend, and instead of the disappearing act I was used to, their relationship seemed to blossom. They would come out together, with all of his friends and all of ours, and I remember thinking to myself, Wait, life doesn’t have to end when you get into a relationship? 

Sure, there are levels to it. Some people don’t go out all the time or have always been one of those friends you see every once in a blue moon, and then get a boyfriend and just hang out together on the weekends, and that’s their vibe. 

But again, that has never been my vibe. 

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I’ve known some of my friends since 9th grade, and the thought of trading nearly a decade-long relationships for some guy I just met seemed stupid to me. I never wanted to be the girl who left the second a man showed me an ounce of affection.

But, after meeting these men that I now consider my close friends, I decided to give a real relationship a try. Seeing that there are still men out there who could be respectful and caring, especially at 22, gave me hope. 

I went on a date and boom, I have a full-fledged boyfriend now. Of course, I did make sure to take ample amounts of time to get to know him in between, and after that period, I took him on the ultimate dealbreaker date: meeting my friends. 

Because, much like the Spice Girls song says, “If you wanna be my lover, you gotta get with my friends.” 

And, he did! My friends immediately told me not to “fuck this up” and that they hope I’d “keep him around.” And, after a ton of well-planned dates and sleepovers and friendship hangouts, I’ve certainly kept him around. But, the gag of it all is: nothing has changed, only improved. 

I still write all the time, make time to rollerskate, play piano, and I hang out with my friends every weekend. I don’t feel restricted or obligated to cancel plans with my friends to hang out with my boyfriend. They both co-exist. 

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There’s this philosophy ingrained in women’s brains to endure all of this suffering and make these sacrifices for the male gaze, but the truth is, we don’t have to. 

I’ve heard all of the excuses: “Well, I can’t go out because he’s going out on Saturday, and I need to compromise with his schedule because he’s always so busy.” 

It’s always what’s most convenient for him, rather than what is most convenient to you.

Sure, I believe in inconveniencing yourself for your relationships when it comes to moments that are meant to be cherished. But when it comes to inconveniencing yourself fully for the sake of your partner, that’s when you’ve lost yourself.

Romance shouldn’t be the end-all, be-all for your life; you should crave something more, something sacred, something only shared among yourself. We tend to focus on what others are doing and mirror their actions to fit in, far beyond fashion trends and taste in music.

We should want our own lives and want someone with the same level of drive that we have for ourselves. Someone who wants to see you grow and, in turn, wants to grow alongside you. 

Obviously, I’m still learning the ropes, but I wanted to say to the girls out there who are like me, fearing that a relationship comes at a high cost, it doesn’t. Whatever you desire is out there, on your own terms.