Student life is both everything and nothing like I expected.
One expectation of uni mainly revolved around the many tales of drinking, and it’s true that litres of booze are thrown around and there are many nights of flatmates getting drunk, going crazy and then going clubbing – only to return in the early hours of the morning with stories that they’ll forget when they wake up later. There have been a few nights where I’ve dared to drink with everyone and go through the pre-drink, go to club, more drink, and then stumble home formula, but have discovered that it’s not really my favourite thing in the world. Instead, I now drink what doesn’t actually taste like piss and, low and behold, I have a much better time. I can enjoy the cheesy drunk music playlist that is blasted out from someone’s speakers as we can as well as dance as idiotically as everyone else – I’m just not falling off my seat and I don’t have a raging headache the next day.
Cooking is also something that I assumed would consist of pasta, more pasta and maybe a potato. To be honest, there is plenty of pasta and potatoes, but since exploring Sainsbury’s I’ve found that I can cook more than just your everyday carbohydrates. Which is really handy when you’re getting sick of pasta – there are only so many different sauces you can make. What has been a surprise is that there have been many encounters with students who really don’t know how to cook food – one of my favourites being one guy who eats either a bowl of bakes beans or those thin slimy sausages from out of a tin.
The flatmates are great, but I’ve discovered that there are many different kinds of students that do, I’m afraid, fall into stereotypes. You have the really nice students – the ones who are always ready to help you out, message to get your arse out of bed, lend you a pound when you’re one short. Basically, they’re the angels of the university and the complete opposite to the douchebags who want to borrow money all the time. Just a pound here, a tenner there and then they just can’t remember when you ever lent them money. Like I said: douchebags.
Then there are the other kinds of students – like your typical rugby frat boy. You know the type I mean; not necessarily plays rugby or any sport or even belongs to a weird cult like a fraternity, but they’re the loud, ballsy ones who always get drunk and usually are only seen between the hours of 5pm and 5am. There’s also those girls who are rumoured to have slept with all the guys at your accommodation, which you would assume is impossible yet nobody denies it.
After just a few months, I’ve got enough student halls stories to last a lifetime – like the morning when I found that someone had actually managed to leave shit on the toilet seat, which is pretty impressive if you think about it. Or the time when someone decided that our kitchen could use some re-decorating with items such as toilet paper, cracked eggs and sugar poured over every surface. Or maybe even the time when someone cling-filmed the toilets of another floor so when they went to do their business, they had quite a shock.
Yeah, student life is everything and nothing like I expected.