Highgate

It took 10 minutes for me to bike from the restaurant I work at to the frat house where my friend had invited me to a party. This was one of the very few times I rode my bike at night, but I felt more comfortable on the dark empty streets than in the bright daytime traffic. Black jacket, black leggings, not a good outfit for alerting drivers to my presence, peddling furiously in my tiny designated lane alongside them. A light grey helmet and neon pink shoes helped to increase my visibility.

When I got to the party, my helmet made me stand out in a funnier way. "Ready for anything!" I joked when people asked what I was carrying. Not that I need a conversation starter, tonight I feel like a celebrity. I used to come to these parties often, different houses over the years, a new theme each night, but the same party when you come down to it. Our brothers set up a pong table and a playlist, make strict rules about who is allowed in (which they almost always break) and point the scantily dressed girls towards the 3 or 4 boxes of cheap beer. Since I pledged a sorority in my freshman year I must have attended at least two dozen iterations of this scene. But I graduated a semester early and all at once fell out of this social group. Now I was back, seemingly out of the blue, and old friends were delighted and surprised to see me.

"Hey! I didn't know you were here! How have you been?"

I beamed at each one of them and hugged them tight. "I miss you," I told them. Nostalgia and warm memories came flooding back, a familiar feeling of belonging I had forgotten. These faces knew me and were glad to have me back for the night. It was almost enough for me to feel like a returning hero, doing a victory lap of my old stomping grounds. Almost. All my old insecurities came back to me just as quickly.

It's a natural and obvious question, but "how have you been?" makes me squirm now. I'm "fine" like everyone else who answers that question automatically, but really I'm searching and insecure and floundering for something more impressive to say about my life post-graduation. My degree was in journalism, but I spend forty hours a week as a waitress in a sports themed restaurant. "I'm working and looking for a job in my field" I say, trying to explain away my unimpressive life. But I'm not looking for a job in my field, not actively anyway. I'm paralyzed in that arena by self-doubt and an intense fear of embarrassing myself.

Almost but not quite the oldest person at this party, I look around and realize I have only a few precious months left of attending this kind of thing without being weird. I'm an alum now. Already the new pledges brush me off, introducing themselves but not really looking me in the eye. I remember meeting older girls like this when I was in their shoes. I didn't care who they were, I cared about my new friends and how to get the boys to notice me. Not that I don't still care about that too, it's just that after a few years experience I can see the story play out before it starts.