In high school, my friends and I did our fair share of partying. I loved it because I got to be around my favorite people and get some time to go crazy with them, but I could crash in their beds later that night. In college, though, you don’t have the luxury of crawling into a bed with three of your friends after it all is said and done. Instead, your friends ditch you to hook up with random guys, you spent $20 on drinks, and you’re stumbling home in subzero temperatures minus an earring. Can someone please explain how that is the result of a good night?

I’m known by my friends at school as the “mom friend.” In other words, I stay in and wait for them to come back when they’re going out. Or, when I do join them, I end up taking care of everyone instead of actually having a good time. Me going to college bars is the equivalent to being the host of a child’s fifth birthday party at Chuck E. Cheese’s. In other words: a literal shit show.

I can’t justify being jam-packed into a frat house with a bunch of sweaty, drunk college kids giving off creepy vibes. It’s just not my idea of a good time. Sure, it’s fun to go out with a few close friends and dance the night away. I rarely pass up an opportunity to dance-walk to the stage at a bar when “Buy U a Drank” comes on. However, that sentence alone explains why I shouldn’t even be going out.

I have gone out probably two or three times with friends I met at school. One of those nights, I ended up bringing a stranger to the hospital. It’s a huge letdown when I do my makeup one time in a month and the only people that end up seeing it are the nurses at Wexner Medical Center.

Not to mention the fact that I am 18 years old and cannot have a night out without feeling like I am going to crumble into nine million pieces every time I get out of bed the next day. It’s something not even unlimited french toast and a gallon of water can fix. My body cannot keep up with the college kid expectation. I need to floss before I go to bed, and I need my 8 hours of sleep. I’m too old for this. (Or some other invalid excuse. I just don’t want to feel like a garbage sack, okay?)

SEE ALSO: "To The Girl Who Doesn't Party In College"

I have no problem with people who love the college party scene. I give you mad props if you can go out for $1 bombs on Thursday, beat the clock on Friday, and blackout on Saturday. But don’t make me feel like a dweeb because I don’t enjoy it like you do. I’m sorry I don’t want to put myself in a situation where I might see Jessica from math class make-out with Brad from Beta Apple Pie. I promise you, I’m still getting the college experience. Cheers to remembering what everyone tells me are the best four years of my life. (And by cheers, I mean tapping our slices of pizza together on a Friday night, instead of clinking our glasses).