Each and every lodge star has a shelf life

There comes a very terrifying moment of self-realization in everyone's college career when it dawns on them that they are no longer the same 130-pound freshman they once were.

Now you all know that no one loves lodging more than I do; in fact, you may recall an article I wrote about it last year in which I highlighted how glad I was that Richmond had this slightly disgusting yet infinitely entertaining lodge culture to offer.

But, it seems like something may have happened. Perhaps it is just another step in the slow and painful process of maturing, perhaps I've made enough of a fool of myself on the dance floor or perhaps this is just what happens senior year.

But for the first time in my four years of college, I have had no desire to rub up on strangers, sweat profusely and be blinded by a never-ending flash of skin-tight neon. Shocking, right?

All week my roommates and I were looking forward to the first lodge of the semester. We discussed all week, game-planned Friday at dinner, put on our favorite dancing music while we got ready and were pumped to lodge.

But, as excited as we were, I knew that something was up when I didn't jump at the chance to dress to theme and opted instead for jeans and a relatively conservative top.

Normally, I'm giddy at the thought of wearing boxers and button downs, animal prints, skin-tight neon from American Apparel or any of the other typical lodge wear.

I chalked it up to having a food baby and not wanting to cause it any damage by squeezing it into tight clothes.

Then, there was a moment where my apartmentmate and I seriously considered staying in and having a frump night in front of the TV.

Now, while harder to write off than the clothing issue, I told myself that it was because Lauren and I were right in the middle of True Blood -- and if there is one thing that can keep me away from lodges, it's the promise of steamy vampire love scenes. (Thanks to the Vampire class we take together, I have developed quite a fondness for those fanged and often very handsome ones.)

But I digress... back to lodges... so as we were signing in, I realized that I wasn't particularly excited to climb up those once daunting lodge stairs with my girlfriends erupting in fits of sorority girl giggles. Oh well, I thought to myself, once we get in there and start rubbing up on strangers I will remember precisely why I love these strange, one-story, rancher-like party palaces.

Wrong. The minute the door opened I realized that I could no longer make up excuses. I just wasn't ready to be a lodge star tonight. Gone is the perma-rager and in comes the boring old lady with her cup of tea and crew neck nighty.

I'm not sure what part of me was ever excited to walk into a sauna full of biddies, bad decisions, frat bros and running mascara in the past, but that part of me is about as far gone as the girl taking a tumble on the dance floor that I spotted right before making the very speedy executive decision to leave.

Lauren and I took one step in and three minutes later my apartmentmate and I were out the door, back down the steps, and in our apartment wearing sweatpants and watching that True Blood I was talking about.

I guess there comes a time in every college kid's life when she realizes that there is more to being social than getting hammered, being reckless and stumbling around in X-lot.

Next time you want to get black-out drunk, consider having dinner out with some friends or a casual drink downtown -- you can learn a lot more about people when they are having a face-to- face conversation with you rather than creeping up behind you and grinding on your backside.