Diary 💗 My first nights out
Cotton undershirts, getting ready, and how music helped me take my clothes off
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I was living in Canada
At nineteen, I moved to Montreal to go school. I’m a Colorado girl, but nothing could have prepared me for the cold.
I lived in a house with fourteen other people, all of us sharing one kitchen. We got to know each other quickly, spending most of our time together as an overgrown codependent family.
Every Friday, we went out. Usually to a party, sometimes to a bar, and on the rare regrettable occasion, a club.
“Getting ready” became a ritual that I looked forward to all week. The fifteen of us would split off into smaller groups, temporarily hunkering down in our respective rooms to start our preparations.
Most of the girls started getting ready hours in advance — not because it actually took us that long to get dressed, but because it was fun. Luxuriating in the process was new to me; not rushing felt good.
The first step was always a hot shower. Then and now, I like to feel clean when I go out. For the first few months, I felt my teen heart beat nervously every time I’d get out and have to change in front of my roommate. It was one of those adult firsts that felt inherently adrenaline-inducing, being naked around someone even just for a few seconds. Girls in the locker room always had underwear on, but this was different.
The only thing that made it easier was music. I realized if I put music on, I felt fine. Something about silently being naked around each other felt weird, but once music was playing, it turned into a party.
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