The 8 Stages Of Groupermania

How I Met Your Mother
How I Met Your Mother

1. Applying

Your freshly dumped BFF Kate g-chats you the link. While you LOATHE forced social interactions, you remind yourself that the last guy who paid you any sort of attention was the seventeen year old Dunkin’ Donuts barista with the mexistache, who threw in an extra glazed munchkin in your baker’s dozen box last week (they were for a friend). You begrudgingly apply, which consists of Grouper saying, “Give us access to your Facebook so we can make sure you don’t have some horrible condition…or that you’re fat.”

2. Acceptance

“Congrats, you’re kind of a big deal now :-)” from your good old friend “Lexi” As I sit here, reveling in my greatness, I wonder… is anyone really NOT accepted? Is this some sort of Jedi mind trick they are playing on self-conscious millennial women? And who the fuck is Lexi? “Lexi” is an elusive being, similar to the role played by Scarlett Johansson in Her. You’d think they could use all of that artificial intelligence technology to upgrade her emoji game. Using the basic bitch :-) …tisk tisk, Lex.

3. Your First Grouper Invitation Arrives

Pay $22 to meet strange men at a bar… what a novel idea, Lexi. Sign me up. In the meantime, I think I’ll freeze my eggs just in case things don’t work out.

4. Pick your Wing-Women

Slutty Lauren is a must. She is single, has low-standards (so she’ll be willing to hook-up with the guy whose parents were first cousins), and is a high-functioning alcoholic. An ideal accomplice for these uncharted “triple-dating” waters. Of course you have to include your BFF Kate who made you apply. Her emotional instability after the breakup has really brought out the crazy in her, but in like a fun way. Like the kind of crazy that makes you flash your tits at the bar for free drinks and ride home on the handles of a bike with a dude with a handlebar mustache. Kate confirms and you immediate regret inviting her. You know you will have to go all Mother Teresa and selflessly offer her the hottest/ least heinous bachelor. Fuck Kate.

5. Two Truths and a Lie

Lexi emails you the date and time along with adding “just for kicks, you can check out the Two Truths and a Lie that the guys put together.” The guy who took the time out of his (hopefully) professionally employed day has stated that his dad may be Canadian – which is great because you’ve been in the market for a toothless hockey player – and that he may also have been intimate with a watermelon. Firstly, what does that even mean? You start to picture him penetrating a watermelon and the scene gets so graphic that you have to look at pictures of baby kittens taking baths to make yourself feel clean again. Secondly, was this consensual? Or would it be considered fruit rape and the elite team of individuals known as the Special Victim’s Unit are on the case? Never submit your own Two Truths and a Lie because as the prophet, Emma Watson said to her disciples, “the less you reveal the more people can wonder.”

6. The Big Night 

It’s Thursday, 8 p.m. at the place you’re supposed to meet. You and your wing-women have each already tossed back four shots at your “Grouper pregame”, also known as early onset alcoholism. You sit in staggered formation (like Grouper suggests), hoping that the strangers you are about to meet don’t have Asperger’s or some other form of social deficit. The name of the game is lower your standards – both literally and figuratively. Typically, you start the bidding at 6 feet tall, but tonight you might find yourself eye to eye with a legal midget and that’s okay. You will be sitting a majority of the evening and he will hopefully overcompensate by buying your attention… that too is okay.

7. The After Hours

Next thing you know you’re at one of the dudes apartments, watching clips of LeBron James, eating white cheddar cheez-its, passing around a bong. At least you’re not alone – Lauren is giving Dan an OTPHJ on the bean bag and Kate is passed out with her head in Tom’s lap while he uses his Xbox 3 controller to pick the next JaRule music video. It’s time to tap out – thank god for Uber, everyone’s personal driver (no taxi’s available…fine, I order a black car LIKE A BOSS). Juan Pablo (pronounced John Pablo), being the bachelor he is – see what I did there? – says he will walk you out to the car. Side note: You’re so drunk you forget to tell your wingwomen you were leaving so once you’re in the elevator you say a little prayer that they make it home alive. Every woman for herself….oh, and best friends forever. The car arrives. The fake chauffeur opens the door, like some kind of drunken chariot of broken dreams. You slide to the far side of the back seat. But wait, John Pablo follows you. Aww, he just wants a good night kiss! Uh oh, he’s closing the door. Fuck. You just got punk’d by John Pablo. He’s coming home to sleep in your bed and suffocate cuddle you like Jack and Rose clutching onto that floating door somewhere in the icy Atlantic.

8. The Aftermath 

John Pablo gave a valiant effort on the home front but alas, it was that time of the month. Thank you mother nature for giving me a legitimate excuse to not have sex with a total stranger! Who runs the world? Girls. He whipped his shirt off revealing the most impressive sheet of brillo hair you’ve seen outside of Jew camp… mazel tov, today you are a man! Guess you can cross one Disney Princess fantasy off your list – taking a magic carpet ride. After serious snogging and heavy petting, you pull out the ‘fake sleep’ from your tool belt of ‘Things Girls Do’ – a skill you perfected while living in a sorority where your roommate and her boyfriend boinked like bunnies on the bottom bunk. She was a screamer, and I’m pretty sure he’s gay now. He finally rolls over to his side of your twin bed and lets out a pathetic “I tried” before drifting off to his wet dream. Slutty Lauren’s night ended similarly, except now she is happily married to the Grouper inbreed with 2 children. This unfortunately puts her out of the running for wingwoman on your next grouper – temporarily.

Moral of the story: If your ideal night consists of uncomfortable binge drinking, making small talk with small people, and/or getting dry humped by a guy who uses a Velcro wallet in a non-ironic way, Grouper does not disappoint. Bonus points if you vomit at work the next morning.

P.S. Please sign our petition for Grouper to offer free STD testing and Plan B. Just kidding…kind of. Thought Catalog Logo Mark

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