Does the idea of your friends going to Tigerland without you keep you awake at night? Are you convinced that something incredible and life altering will happen just because you aren’t in attendance? Is the mere thought of watching snapchat stories from a night out while you are home in bed too much to bare?
If you answered yes to any of these questions, you’ve got it. FOMO. The ever-too-common “fear of missing out.” For those of you who suffer from this social anxiety, you understand all too well the way it runs its course. But for those lucky few who are unfamiliar with FOMO, a typical case can be described in 4 stages.
Stage 1: The Decision
You start your Monday by telling yourself, “I will not go out tonight. I have an 8 am tomorrow. Not worth it.” You’re confident in this decision. This is the responsible thing to do. You’ll go to bed early, get a full 8 hours, and wake up rested and ready to take on the world! You imagine yourself the next morning in the Miller bathroom seeing the girls who just couldn’t miss out on another t-shirt night. They are literally sweating alcohol and regret and you laugh at the immaturity. You compliment your own intelligence. Your mother would be so proud.
Stage 2: The Dilemma
Out of nowhere, it happens. Your phone vibrates. A single text. “You coming out tonight?!” Who would have thought a simple, grammatically incorrect message could strike such fear into your heart. The idea of even one person you know being there tonight while you are in bed makes your palms sweat. You feel the FOMO begin to creep up behind you.
If they’re going, just imagine who else must be going. What if all my friends are going? Oh my God, what if the hot guy from history is there?! Honestly, my future husband could potentially be there. What if tonight it is the night we are supposed to meet but because I don’t go he meets someone else and falls in love with her and then I never get married and I’m forced to adopt 12 cats so I can fit into the cat-lady stereotype?! I don’t even like cats. This can’t happen to me.
Stage 3: The Compromise
A few more texts is all it takes to convince you that ALL of your friends are going tonight. It has also been confirmed by your srat sister’s boyfriend’s roommate that the hot guy from history will in fact be there. The image of him buying a drink for some other girl while you watch Netflix on the futon clouds your judgment.
I could just go for a little while, right? I mean, what’s the harm in that? Just make an appearance for an hour, dance with my friends, see hot history boy and be home before 1! It’s the best of both worlds, really.
Stage 4: The Regret
Your 8 am class the next morning comes and goes and you sleep through it all. (It’s a shame that FOMO never strikes up over missing a class.) T-shirt night was just as awful and sweaty as it was last week, and hot history boy was nowhere to be found.
Stumbling into the Miller bathroom and looking in the mirror, you realize that YOU are the immature girl who you laughed at in your imagination. The one who just couldn’t miss out on another t-shirt night. You silently curse whoever came up with the phrase “you can retake the class, but you can’t retake the party” and remind yourself that it is a load of bull. There will always be another party and there will always be another t-shirt night. Shake this one off, promise to try harder next week, and tell your FOMO to suck it.
