Thanksgiving is a time for coming together. More specifically, it’s the weekend when you are most likely to run into every single person you ever knew in high school, and potentially hook up with one of them. Or, a few of them. Or, all of them at once– hey, do what you do, we’ll never judge you. But, since no one wants to end up surprised by their walk-of-shame on Thanksgiving morning, we’ve got you covered with a quick guide to the Wednesday night mob-scene at your hometown’s chosen watering hole.
- You will be asked “What are you up to these days?” at least 157,246 times between 10pm and 1am. Have something good prepared. No one but your mom actually wants to hear about your new accounting job. Instead, say you’re really into uni-cycling. You led Occupy Sesame Street. Whatevs.
- 1 in 5 of you will take a shot with a teacher. Make sure it’s something disgusting, like Sambuca, so you remember to regret it.
- At least one of your friends will stay home. Because their new fiancé is tired. Or just because they got boring. Or bald. Or old. Leave the stragglers– this is your night to shine.
- Someone will puke because they “haven’t raged this hard since college!” Do not be this person. Car bombs taste like milkshakes, but they’re not your friend. They’re named after a violent explosive device. Think about it.
AND MOST IMPORTANTLY:
- 97% of people hook up with a high school classmate. This can end up as a great story if you play your cards right. To make sure you wake up satisfied and not in the emergency room, we’ve drafted some notes on the proper hookup protocol for the 5 types you’re likely to run into tonight.
THE KEY PLAYERS
(in descending order of preference. Unless you’re going for extreme craycray, in which case go to the bottom and read upwards)
Somehow still your ultimate fantasy. You used to stutter like the waterboy whenever they asked you a question in Bio, and start uncontrollably sweating when they walked by you in the hallway. But you’re older and more experienced now, and you know to aim high. Go for them first while you’re feeling fresh and powerful. We can already hear the entire bar chanting your name and cheering as you both float off into the night, making out in a golden chariot led by giant swans.
…If not, at least you’ve left plenty of time for back-up options. Read on.
Skinny Steve and Patty Pizza-face have transformed in the years since puberty had its cruel way with them, and they’re looking pretty hot. Some of your ex-classmates might try and challenge you here, but you’re a custom Maserati, and they’re just a fleet of base model Kia Souls. Plus, no matter how much of a smokeshow they’ve become, they’ll always have an inferiority complex. So remember, you “always had a thing for them.” It works every time.
Long-overdue hate sex with someone who once broke your heart is the ultimate cure for an awkward Wednesday night. In fact, ancient Sumerian medicine men used to prescribe such acts for almost every affliction. In any case, if you decide to go for this one, approach the situation carefully, and remember: You are a sensual powerhouse of desire with no human emotion. There’s no crying in hate sex. We repeat: there is no crying in hate sex. And do NOT get breakfast the next morning. It’s preferable to leave in the middle of the night… out the window if necessary.
He rolls up to the bar in his parents’ Camry wearing stained Abercrombie sweatpants, blasting the football pump-up mix from sophomore year. Her “Live, Laugh, Love” tramp stamp she got at Beach Week is peeking out of her jeans, and she’s aggressively trying to grind with ev-er-y-one. But hey– now’s your chance to get some for your high school self, and here they are, ready to go home with the first thing that recognizes them. Desperate? Maybe. But there’s no shame in some good old-fashioned redemption.
If you have one of these, sucks to be you. We don’t need to remind you to avoid this person at all costs, so stay alert. You hardly knew them in high school, but they’ve liked and commented on everything you’ve posted on Facebook, basically ever. You’ll probably only hook up with them if you’re plastered, so take that 9th round of shots at your own risk. Even if you don’t see them most of the night, know they’re def lurking nearby, counting your drinks, and waiting to unleash full-on creeper mode once you get drunk enough.
So, there’s your guide, valiant Wednesday Warriors of Hinge. Use it and be crowned the Grand Lovemaster of Thanksgiving. The bards will sing of your triumph and a personal scribe shall engrave your name into the sidewalk outside the bar, where future generations will admire it and share your legend each year following. And even if you don’t encounter any of the above scenarios and happen to end your night alone, tomorrow you can always play Hinge and drown your loneliness in your mom’s pumpkin pie, while you nurse your crucial hangover.
Happy T-givs, y’all!