I had a group of friends as a teenager that I adored, simply adored. Most of them were males. I felt like an equal among them, a member of our group. I felt respected and safe.
We partied together, drank a lot. Held many gatherings at friends’ houses (you know the ‘party’ that’s not a party).
I had a steady boyfriend, my first real boyfriend. We were the same age, together from 16 years old, madly in love and stayed together for a solid three years – a lifetime for teenagers.
We were always together, would get drunk together with our friends, stay over at friends’ houses, I don’t recall if we passed out often but I’m sure we did. It was safe.
I was 18 when this changed.
Sex, drinking, and social media is a recipe for some risky behaviour on Mamamia Out Loud.
We were at a male friend’s house. We were gathered there, at least a dozen of us. I don’t think it was a real party, possibly just a gathering, our friend’s parents could have been away, I can’t recall. There was probably a bonfire, lots of drinking, laughing, music, joking, having the time of our lives. His parents were always cool with us being there and drinking, so few parents were. We were happy.
That evening my boyfriend and I stayed the night, I assume everyone else made their way home. Possibly walking the streets. We did that a lot. Walked and walked and walked after nights out.
Our friend had a bunk bed, my boyfriend and I cuddled up together on the bottom bunk, our friend in his own bed up top.