Hey you.

I was thinking about you the other day. I can’t wait to see you again. It’s been three months too long.

You know, it’s crazy. I don’t really say this much but, GSTAR, you complete me.

I have never felt so many mixed emotions towards a venue as I do now. See the thing is, you aren’t just a sh*tty dive bar in downtown Bridgeport. No, you are much more than that. You are my home every Tuesday, Saturday and the occasional karaoke Sunday.

When the squad and I get dropped off outside by the one friend deciding to be Sober Sally for the evening, I never fail to be in disbelief at how beautiful and ugly you can be at the same time. As we stand in the never-ending line of obliterated freshmen, the dingy streets of B-port almost feel welcoming. The glow of your neon lights keep me warm as I freeze my ass off wearing shorts and a crop top in the middle of January.

After the bouncer scans my ID, I am confronted by the overly expensive $10 cover charge. I am reluctant to hand it over, but I know it will be worth it. As I make my way inside I am immediately bombarded by faces of people familiar and unfamiliar. The stench of sweat, beer and regret are in air: the pungent fragrance of GSTAR. I soon forget my morals as DJ Studderz drops “Anaconda” and my crew becomes surrounded by lurking Bridgeport locals.

As the thirst becomes real as my lack of cash, I begin to strategize a plan to get myself a free pitcher of “beer.” (Has anyone actually confirmed that this is beer?) Now the alcohol is flowing, and you have instantly remedied my school stress. My 8 a.m. exam becomes non-existent.

Over the years, you and I have grown and changed together. Don’t think I didn’t notice your new floors. And bathroom stalls? Great addition. However, I’ll admit I do miss staring at my best friend as we drunkenly pee simultaneously and rant about that freshman girl who is certainly making a name for herself around the bar.

I want to thank you for always being there for me, through every failed test, fake friend and f*** boy. You have made me a better dancer, conversationalist and judge of character. Nobody can turn my week around the way you can GSTAR. Although there may be many regrets the following morning, I will never regret the fateful night I first decided to walk through your front door (or sneak in the back door).

I soon forget it's January as I walk outside drenched in sweat, makeup running and hair thrown into a wet bun, but warm from alcohol and the memories made that evening. As I sit on the laps of 12 people shoved into the car, I take one look back at my beautiful GSTAR, just in time to see a young girl puking on the sidewalk. Classic.

I tune back into the conversation of the car delightfully surprised that a stop to the Merritt is on the agenda. Mmmm ... mac n’ cheese bites.

Now I've gotten myself all emotional. Dammit GSTAR, every time. At least I can smile and say with relief, "See you soon."