I tried to be a fresher, the way that freshers enjoy nothing more than letting loose and drinking a lot of cheap vodka and dancing to whatever music is on offer and stealing traffic cones and so on.
I tried to fit in – I had even spent two years growing my hair out to look ‘more straight’ because of my own internalised biphobia and the fact that I thought people might find me less weird if I looked “less gay” (this is all utter rubbish, by the way). I went out, I tried my best, I even wore high heels, but it just wasn’t me. Instead I cemented myself as the grumpy granny of the flat by drinking Lemsip and going to bed early while everyone else was pre-drinking one night.
I don’t have much against freshers who do love freshers week culture and do have fun, although I do have my questions and concerns about why so much of British freshers culture is framed around drinking for the sake of drinking. I won’t lie that this culture intimidates me and isn’t for me (and I say this as someone who enjoys alcohol).
I wish I had spent my Freshers’ Week staying true to my interests because maybe I would not have spent a semester miserable and lonely. What happened was I was looking in the wrong places for the things and people I was interested in. I learnt from Freshers’ Week that I need to make it my own and not try and fit some imaginary stereotype of a fresher. I didn’t hate all of it, but given the chance, I would do it again, and very differently – I would do it for me and not the person I thought I was supposed to be.
