It was established as a way to connect with the fleeting youth of Catholicism. Despite the religious overtones and the ability to say a confession while there, in essence the club is everything you would expect throughout the Euro nightclub scene. They serve beer, wine and of course Prosecco; DJs spin and remix American music; guys with slick-backed hair and too-tight pants dance to songs that were popular two years ago; there are flashy light shows; and it's open seven days a week including Sundays.
You can debate the controversial nature of this concept forever, but what I found most compelling and honestly beautiful about this place was that its guests felt like they could be themselves there. One of the regulars states in the article, "most other clubs attract people who are trying to act like someone they're not ... GP2 is the spot to get to know a girl rather than pick her up." People feel safe and comfortable in their skin at GP2, which is a rarity today.
On Friday morning, after reading this article, I started thinking about my experience in Rome and the days when I would walk through Saint Peter's Square everyday. GP2 wasn't there at the time, but my Rome beckoned me to be myself too, and get to know other people for who they are.
I lived in Rome for five months during my junior year of college. I had embarked on the semester abroad as a rebel jock - as an athlete going against what the other spring athletes were doing in the fall. That is, build-up massive muscle reserves in the weight room, run sprint after sprint on the indoor turf field, and fight for your name to be called on the starting line-up at practice during the week; then party hard with the other athletes who had suffered similar physical torture all week long on the weekends. Although my coach supported my decision to miss Fall Ball, it was unchartered territory for my team. Basically, by going away I was relinquishing my starting position and becoming weaker. I needed this experience though - so without any regrets I flew to Rome with a hodge-podge of other Notre Dame students in August of 2002.
My experience abroad was weird at first. It marked the first time since perhaps grade-school that I didn’t come equipped with and protected by my lacrosse or field hockey playing cohorts. I always felt more comfortable with my teammates by my side. They saw me as a hero on the field, so I felt like I was someone big off the field as well. In Rome though, there was no game to play and no teammates to define me. It was just me. And a bunch of new people who didn't really like athletes. I don’t think it was being in a foreign city that was scary, it was me, alone there, that was foreign. I didn’t know who I was without sports, especially the collegiate version of me.
A lot of people characterize their time abroad as an earth-shattering experience. They open their eyes and see their education in a whole new light. They become more mature, more worldly, and their idea of a good party no longer encompasses the sweaty, smelly scene of Boat Club. (Instead it's the Euro-equivalent.) I had an earth-shattering experience in Rome, but it wasn't as cookie cutter as the rest.
I found myself and a true sense of confidence in Rome. And a lot of it happened when I was alone. It took lengthy walks through the streets of Rome. Conversations with six diverse and amazing roommates; prayers and faith affirming dialogue at some of the most sacred places in the world; the loss of fifteen pounds and the purchase of new Italian clothes to replace my sweats; the complete absence of alcohol; and the inability to hold my athlete status as my cool card. By November, I saw me. Others saw me. And we all liked me.
I found myself and a true sense of confidence in Rome. And a lot of it happened when I was alone. It took lengthy walks through the streets of Rome. Conversations with six diverse and amazing roommates; prayers and faith affirming dialogue at some of the most sacred places in the world; the loss of fifteen pounds and the purchase of new Italian clothes to replace my sweats; the complete absence of alcohol; and the inability to hold my athlete status as my cool card. By November, I saw me. Others saw me. And we all liked me.
It was very difficult to come back to school and play that winter. I knew it was going to be. But I did it, my teammates accepted me, and by our second game I had won back by starting position. I did get made fun of and to this day they love picking at my oddities, but I have always been able to embrace the chiding because I love that I am different and they love that I am different. That's the thing about teammates - they seem to love you no matter what.
I lost a bit of ground on being true to myself after college and interestingly, I could never make a relationship work past the first date. But humbled by a bad GMAT score, the ten pounds I gained over the summer and not knowing anyone again, I figured I would go into business school as the real me. And just like that, I met him.
It's actually ironic, because I remember how I annoyed I was with myself before going out that night. My jeans weren’t fitting and I had to turn to the pair of jeans that only come out on fat days. Travesty. I tucked a button-down shirt into the fat jeans, looked in the mirror and said, "I can’t do this."
"I can’t go out looking like this."
"Why am I SOOOO FAT???!!!! "
"Stop it you psycho, you are more than this - STEP AWAY FROM THE MIRROR!"
I grabbed my car keys, walked out the door and made a solo appearance at the bar on my first day of MBA school. Ten minutes later, with a big smile on my face, a vodka cocktail in my hand, and an insecurity that my thighs looked too big, Peter walked up to say hi. He might tell you differently, but I don’t believe Peter walked up to me because I was the most beautiful girl in the room. I think he walked up to me because I was the girl in the room (there were only two or three by the way) that wasn’t afraid to be herself.
Being yourself is the most attractive thing to be - and whether it takes going abroad, being alone for a while, or trying out a place like GP2 to take away your facade, it's worth it. And as a testament to that - my two favorite princesses just found great new beaus when they were playing the greatest roles of all, themselves.
Lo.
It's actually ironic, because I remember how I annoyed I was with myself before going out that night. My jeans weren’t fitting and I had to turn to the pair of jeans that only come out on fat days. Travesty. I tucked a button-down shirt into the fat jeans, looked in the mirror and said, "I can’t do this."
"I can’t go out looking like this."
"Why am I SOOOO FAT???!!!! "
"Stop it you psycho, you are more than this - STEP AWAY FROM THE MIRROR!"
I grabbed my car keys, walked out the door and made a solo appearance at the bar on my first day of MBA school. Ten minutes later, with a big smile on my face, a vodka cocktail in my hand, and an insecurity that my thighs looked too big, Peter walked up to say hi. He might tell you differently, but I don’t believe Peter walked up to me because I was the most beautiful girl in the room. I think he walked up to me because I was the girl in the room (there were only two or three by the way) that wasn’t afraid to be herself.
Being yourself is the most attractive thing to be - and whether it takes going abroad, being alone for a while, or trying out a place like GP2 to take away your facade, it's worth it. And as a testament to that - my two favorite princesses just found great new beaus when they were playing the greatest roles of all, themselves.
Lo.
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