Drunk Chicks in Bathrooms

What is it about drunk chicks in public bathrooms??

You know immediately what I’m talking about, right? How can “drunk chicks in bathrooms” have such a wholesome vibe while also being centered around something that is decidedly UN-wholesome?

The other night, we went to dinner for my son’s birthday at a popular restaurant. When I went to the bathroom, a few clearly intoxicated, younger (than me) women came in to touch up their makeup and do whatever groups of women do in bathrooms. They were laughing, complimenting each other, and trading lipsticks, and I’ll admit that my first thought was, “Aww, I miss that feeling.”

Women have a strange sense of camaraderie when they’re buzzed and clustered around the sinks in a bar restroom. There’s a feeling of togetherness, and it becomes a magical judgment-free zone that’s hard to come by with women.

Everyone loves each other, cheers each other on, and shares makeup and beauty secrets. It’s like a glitch in the matrix, where all the mean girl issues are paused, and we’re all on the same team. I’ve become momentarily best friends with perfect strangers in public restrooms, and I’ve deepened connections with existing friends. I can clearly remember and list at least five major drunk bathroom experiences throughout my life, and that’s significant given my proclivity for blacking out. What happens in the women’s restroom stays in the women’s restroom.

I thought about all of this as I smiled at these women, quietly washed my hands, and left to return to my table. I wondered if I’m missing out on some fundamentally important part of the female experience now that I don’t drink. Am I okay with never experiencing that again?

I’m sure there is some kind of science behind this whole phenomenon, and I’m not claiming to understand it or have all the answers. However, after some careful deliberation, I can at least say that I am indeed okay with never experiencing it again—I’m more than okay with it.

Here’s the thing…

I had some good laughs, probably talked too loudly, and repeated myself a lot. Maybe I caught a few colds from sharing lip gloss and not washing my hands well. I definitely talked some shit about a boy or two, plotted revenge on someone’s behalf, and helped someone make an ex really jealous. It all felt monumental at the time, but none of those interactions were truly deep or meaningful, even if they felt like it at the time. Aside from a few memorable stories, most of those interactions were forgotten once we left the confines of the bathroom. Those seemingly deep bonds didn’t last into the next day or even to the next trip to the bathroom.

All of this happened at a time in my life when I struggled to fit in. I felt like a square peg in a round hole, and I was desperate to find a place where I truly fit in. Many of my female friendships felt shallow and off-balance. I constantly had to fight for my seat at the table. Drinking allowed me to be the person I thought everyone wanted me to be, so I leaned into that identity. Drinking made me more fun, more outgoing, bolder, and more extroverted. I clung to those drunken connections, treating them like they were more significant than they were.

In recent years, all of that has changed. Not only do I no longer drink, but I’ve found beautiful, authentic, and fulfilling friendships.

I no longer have to fight for my seat at the table because there’s always a chair for me. I have friends who fill my cup and my soul, support me wholeheartedly, and want to see me succeed. We care about the same things, worry about the same things, have deep conversations, and laugh until it hurts. These friends don’t care that I gave up alcohol and embraced sobriety, and I don’t need to be buzzed at a bathroom sink to connect with them authentically. We do our REAL connecting when alcohol isn’t involved – over coffee, on walks or runs, at our kids' sporting events, and at dinners. I know I’m not missing out on anything important by being the sober person at the sink.

Some of my relationships did change after I quit drinking, and that’s okay with me. There are a few people who clearly have less interest in spending time with the non-party-girl version of me, and I don’t mind. Although there were some harsh realizations to be made early on, I now know that those shifts needed to happen. The whole process has allowed me to really discover who I am without alcohol, embrace and accept myself as an introvert, and nurture and build the relationships that are truly important in my life.

I don’t mind that I’ll no longer be participating in the “drunk chicks in the bathroom” experience. I’ll try to embrace that same spirit of female camaraderie, just without the booze. I won’t let you use my lip gloss (ew), but I’ll still smile, tell you I love your shoes, and offer up a tampon if you need it.

We can all learn something from the drunk chicks in bathrooms, and it’s not about the alcohol.