From Farrah Joon. Check out her blog, sexandfessenjoon. Email her at farrah[AT]borderstan.com, follow her on Twitter @Farrah_Joon.

All men are dogs. There are the purebreds and the street dog/mutts. Purebreds can be trained. They are keepers. Mutts are for the streets.

When I graduated high school I didn’t think about the pressure of finding a nice guy who is responsible, well suited for dad, and treats me well (aka a purebred). Back then it was all about whether they were hot or not.

In the early days of college, going out was about meeting boys and either bringing them back to our place or making out with them at the bar.

We went out solely to meet boys. Our night’s fun was dependent on how many times we gave our number out and whether we kissed anyone.

During my sophomore year of college, I lived with my four best friends under one roof and it was a mess. We went out maybe four times a week. We pre-gamed, dressed up in our sluttiest outfits (back when it was “cute” to wear lingerie tops to the club), and set up a buddy system so that one of us always had a “wing-woman.”

And shockingly, we weren’t the only group of girls (or guys) who did this. At the end of the night, we would grab drunchies (at your local Jack in the Box) and retell our shenanigans.

Regardless our night’s success was based on d*ck at a time where we were still too scared to actually do anything with the d*ck.

But we were uninhibited — and we had just joined a world where these activities were perpetuated through a series of experiences… mistakes… and downright fun — we were young, sleazy and free.

I had a year of fun, excitement, and stupid, harmless mistakes — then one day, going out wasn’t just so I could meet boys… going out became something where I could go, drink, and have fun with my friends.

Our success was not reliant on whether we made out with anyone or gave our phone numbers — our successes were based on finding good bars, laughing, and no one getting sick at the end of the night.

There’s a very real difference between going out to just meet boys and going out to just have fun.

My “bar outfits” are no longer put together to attract guys — they’re put together for me. Whether I choose to wear a sexy top or just a plain white tank top — whatever is more comfortable for me.

The best ending — to a night is not finding the hottest guy and taking him home to my bed, it’s when I end the night stuffing my face with a burger and laughing about some random drunken nonsense with my best friend.

There’s nothing wrong with going out to meet guys and having fun that way — but there is something very wrong with not valuing how much fun you can have without meeting a guy.

It’s the fun nights spent with our closest friends that we will remember — not the names of all the guys we kissed. (Take my word for it).

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