Dear Hookup Scene,
When I first started experiencing you, you were fun. It was a different kind of lifestyle that I wasn't accustomed to and it was exciting in a spontaneous kind of way. My high school years were focused on relationships, so entering your culture almost felt like a blessing in disguise. I was never the type of girl to give my number to boys who I had just met, but you allowed me to feel comfortable in those situations. It felt good to expand my horizons and try something that I wasn't accustomed to. I had always stood on the sidelines when everyone else was deep in your waters, but I was entering my second year of college newly single. You intrigued me.
I'm not going to lie, you were enjoyable for a semester. I embraced your social scene willingly. The parties and the booze made it easier to end up in someone's arms for the night. I made some funny memories and good friends along the way. I bonded with people who I never thought that I'd get along with and laughed at the nightmare stories from friends the next day at brunch. I looked forward to going out on the weekends (and the occasional Tuesday), wondering what mystery the night would bring. You lifted my confidence level. I felt wanted every time when I kissed someone new. You compelled me to branch out of my comfort zone and talk to new people who I would have never approached in the past. You taught me to appreciate the sweet taste of freedom and I am happy that I was able to tread in your waters.
However, Hookup Scene, you had a catch. For every good night there was a bad one and sometimes those bad nights hit me hard. You caused me many regrets and embarrassing moments that I wish that I could erase from my memory. You let me doubt myself whenever he didn't text back and made me feel ashamed when I had a ping of disappointment while watching that boy hook up with a new girl the following night. You made me feel used and degraded, like I was worth nothing more than a drunken night. You had me believing that no one appreciated who I was as a person. You made me think that my body and face were all that mattered to society and that push-up bras and tight skirts were a must. You told me that the sluttier my outfit was, the better. You brought out the insecurities, the jealousy, and all of the other emotions that broke my high and I hate you for that.
You see, Hookup Scene, I admit that you were fun for a while, but I grew tired of you. You are immature, useless, and not worth my time. I will not judge myself by the number of people that you've led me to or however many people the future holds for me. I am more than just a causal hookup or a one night stand. I have a mind and a personality. I would rather intrigue someone with my thoughts and beliefs rather than by the amount of skin that my outfit reveals. I deserve to be taken out for a cup of coffee, rather than just the Uber ride home. I know that avoiding you is inevitable, but I finally realized that I am better than you. You do not get to cause me any self-doubts or any tears. I do not need you in my life. You do not define who I am as a person.
To say the least, Hookup Scene, I am so incredibly over you.