Everyone was supposed to meet for appetizers and prosecco at 7 o’clock, which naturally means she’s going to show up at 7:15 and make a fashionably late entrance. With her new clutch in tow, she strolls in to meet Caroline, Katie, Megan, Victoria, and Alex for the most anticipated event of the season: girl’s night.
“You guys will never believe this, but Todd and I DTR’d and we’re totes offish,” she gushes after sitting down and pouring herself a flute of bubbly. Garnering a reception that feels on-par to telling them that she’s engaged, they all agree that this is a cause for celebration (except for Caroline who rolls her eyes and is clearly here to just get wasted).
See, Todd has an alumni event uptown, Katie’s boyfriend is in New Orleans for a bachelor party, and all the other girls aren’t official with anyone except for Alex who is still dating that mystery guy she tried to bring to brunch. It was the perfect Friday for a ladies night to remember. “Let’s just have a night of us girls, no boys allowed,” Katie proposed in their group chat days prior.
At the agreed upon French bistro selected by our heroine after hours of Yelp research, everyone gets down to business: brussels sprouts, charcuterie board, the works. The conversation transitions from Kylie Jenner’s Snapchat stories to how much of a bitch the old recruitment chair from their sorority is. Their 45-year-old waiter is a combination of confused and astonished as one of the girls says, “I just don’t understand how anyone can actually hate the Kardashians” as he refills their champagne flutes with the third bottle of the cheapest prosecco on the menu.
Hardly ever looking up from their phones where they’re all relentlessly filtering their pictures of the table, Katie posts the first Instagram of the night. It’s captioned “Ladies Night With The #Squad” followed by the hair flip Emoji. Immediately upon seeing Katie’s photo, Victoria thinks to herself, “What a fucking bitch. I was going to fucking post that.” With a determination unseen by mankind, Victoria takes to Instagram and posts a similar (but more impressively filtered) photo immediately on top of Katie’s photo in the feed with a caption of, “Ain’t nobody fresher than my clique #nonewfriends” with the a-okay emoji.
The room becomes tense for everyone except Caroline who is somehow on her sixth glass despite it being only 8:30. Katie, furious that Victoria will take all of her likes, asks Victoria if she’s still seeing Tim even though she knows Tim is now seeing someone else. It’s “Megan has lipstick on her teeth but no one is telling her” kind of awkward.
“Ugh, let’s just have fun, guys!” Megan chimes in. “What should we do after this? There’s a new bar opening on west 8th that’s supposed to be everything.”
Everyone ignores her as the fifth bottle of prosecco arrives at the table. It’s unclear who is drinking to forget and who is drinking to ease the tension of the Instagram controversy of minute’s past, but one thing is evident: everyone is buzzed and their lack of dinner isn’t helping matters.
Despite it being ladies night, there’s a strong feeling that all of the girls have an overlying want for there to be a male presence around. It doesn’t help that everyone is buried in their phones texting whatever central male figure is in their life, but Alex won’t stand for it. “Guysssss, get off your phones!” Naturally, no one is listening as they’re all fervently checking their likes or texting Todd, “Miss youuuuuuuu” which goes unresponded to.
After annoyingly splitting the check six ways and leaving 90% of the appetizers uneaten, the girls call an Uber XL with the intention of going to the new bar Megan pitched earlier in the night. No one can hear their own thoughts as they all sing along to “Lean On” as the driver debates driving off a bridge.
After waking up Caroline who passed out in the third row of the Suburban, the girls loudly pile into the bar where they’ve all not-so-secretly individually told their boyfriends to meet them, subsequently ruining girl’s night despite it only being 9 o’clock.
But there’s one glaring omission: Todd. Not sure when he’ll be done with his alumni event (or what his plans are for the rest of the night), she texts him, “Babe, we’re all on West 8th — come meet us!” Sitting there, dejected while all the other girls swoon, she waits for a text that doesn’t arrive until the next morning.
“Sorry, babe, the alumni event got out of hand and I ended up just passing out right when I got home.” .
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