Week 3 – My first drink at age 15

A birthday card arrives.
It says ‘Happy Birthday love mum and dad’
I’m 30 today.
I place the card on the centre of the mantle piece beside the others.

30 years old!
I am now meant to be sorted, settled and sensible.
Who tells me this?
Society…

To be honest though I’d rather be 30 than say 15 again.

Fifteen years old.
Half of my life time ago.
What a scary thought:
I’d arrive at school every morning for 9am.
Sit in registration.
Speak to the ‘unpopular’ girls.
Go to classes for four hours.
Eat lunch trying not to get picked on because of my crazy curly hair.
Return to classes.
Walk home.
Do homework.

Well that was the case until I went to my first party.

1993
Gloria Gaynor was singing ‘I Will Survive’ for a second time in the charts.
It was April.
The Easter holidays had passed.
School had started again.
Saturday night.
There was a party held by one of the girls in my class.
Everyone was invited.

I was unsure whether to go.
I didn’t know what to say to people at these parties.
I didn’t wear the same clothes as them.
Have the same hair styles.
Listen to the same music.

I would have liked to though.

I often day dreamed about hanging about with the “in crowd”
Jenny
Nicky
Katy
I watched them in the playground at lunchtime.
People were drawn to them like bees to a honey pot.
They all had straight glossy hair.
Wore clothes that made them look funky.
Always laughed and had something to talk about.
Boys – especially the older ones loved them.
Don’t get me wrong, I did speak to them.
I had to sit beside Jenny in Maths.
One of those teacher plan things where they dictated who sat beside who.
Usually alphabetical - which meant I had to sit beside Jenny in three classes.
We got on well.
On our own.
She told me her stories.
I told her mine.
But when it came to being in a group with her I wasn’t included.

I was not seen as part of the “in crowd”
I was nervous.
Shy.
Quiet.
I was scared I would say something stupid to these girls who I worshipped and they would laugh at me.
So I just watched and longed to be part of their group.

The night of the party I borrowed my friend’s straighteners.
I put on make-up.
Wore a grey short skirt, pink t-shirt and sandals.

As I rang the doorbell to the party my hands were sweaty.
I felt slightly sick through apprehension.
The door was opened by someone I didn’t know.
He ushered me into the party.
The room was filled with cigarette smoke.
Music played from different rooms of the house.
There was vodka, martini, cider and beer.

A girl pushed a beer in my hand.
I had never drunk alcohol before.
Everyone else was doing it.
I would look out of place if I didn’t.
Another girl handed me a plastic cup of what looked like punch.
‘Try this. It’s wicked’ she said.
I looked about the room everyone was laughing, chatting, smoking and drinking.

I drank my punch.
I drank my beer.
I had another punch.
I had another beer.

I started to chat to people I had never spoken to before.
It felt great.
They were talking to me.
Laughing and joking.

I had more punch.
I also had cider.
I began to dance with Jenny, Nicky and Katy.
We laughed.
They offered me a cigarette.
They liked me.

Then 9am Monday morning.
School registration.
Everyone talked about the party on Saturday night.
Who snogged who.
Who was the most drunk.
I was included in the chat.
People congratulated me on how drunk I was.
How good it was I smoked.
How fun my dancing was.

I was invited to go for a cigarette at break.
To go for lunch with Jenny, Nicky and Katy.
To go to a party the following Saturday.

I still felt nervous and shy but now I had something to talk about with everyone.
I felt part of the “in crowd”
So I continued to go to parties.

That was fifteen years ago.
I wouldn’t want to feel like that again – nervous, shy and quiet.
I have great friends now.
Who funnily enough are holding a party for my 30th birthday tonight.
Where there will be vodka, martini, cider and beer
Maybe things don’t change that much after all…