Confessions Of A Brunch Virgin

Confessions Of A Brunch Virgin

I have a confession. A confession so dark that it gives me chills. I feel disgusted. I can’t even show my face in public. On the outside, I try to pretend like I’m fine but on the inside, I’m a shriveled up boring individual with the worst FOMO in history. I don’t even know how I can even call myself a human being. Who am I? I’m literally the worst person ever.

I have never been to brunch.

I know, I know. I suck. How dare I even write on this site. I deserve to die a long and painful death. I mean I went to “brunch” in the dining hall at college but it’s not the same. I didn’t come here to hate on all your brunch escapades, rather than to beg for your sympathy. It seems like everyone brunches their pants off, I’m guaranteed to see five-plus brunch snapchats each weekend, and it just looks like so much fun. I’ve had some serious FOMO, but you don’t know FOMO until literally everyone gets their brunch on but you.

Let me explain myself. First, I don’t really live in a brunch-friendly area. I work about an hour west of DC, and I live an hour further west from where I work. I grew up in the sticks and the city freaks me out, so I try to stay in the sticks now (even though I live in an apartment). Sometimes I pick up some amazing breakfast burritos from Anita’s, but that’s about the extent of my weekend breakfast escapades. I also spend the majority of my weekends coaching, so I don’t have the time to devote hours downing bottomless mimosas. I also don’t have the ability to immediately assemble a solid brunch squad. I would actually have a very diverse squad, but it’s not geographically possible every weekend.

I have a lot of questions for all you brunch masters. Is this stuff expensive? What kind of hit does your wallet take? Do you always have to sit outside? Are you allowed to eat something other than Eggs Benedict? Sorry, that was a microaggression. Are the mimosas truly bottomless? How many mimosas before you get kicked out? Do y’all do this every weekend? How long do you actually stay at brunch? Is this an all-day thing? What do you wear? Are sweatpants allowed? Everyone loves leisurewear. What time am I supposed to show up? I’m usually early for everything, but I feel like 10 minutes late puts off a chill vibe. What’s the etiquette? Do I have to be quiet and polite or can I be just as loud and belligerent as the night before?

WAIT. Is there gravy? I need gravy. Gravy is a drug.

I will continue to watch from the outside. I will never know the inside jokes and I miss out on all the fun conversations. I don’t get to pet random people’s dogs and down countless amounts of champagne and orange juice. I don’t get to truly experience life. I need brunch.

I love you, brunch people. Don’t let the brunch-haters get to you. Keep writing about it, keep Instagramming it, and please keep Snapchatting it. I need to live my life vicariously through someone, so I choose you. I envy you brunch-goers every weekend. You make me love brunch and I’ve never truly experienced it. You make me want to move to the city and join someone’s brunch squad.

But please, someone end the FOMO and take me to brunch.

Image via Shutterstock

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Just a big dude from Virginia who loves Dale Earnhardt, guns, and eating red meat.

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