We’ve all been there, you tell your crew that you’re not going out for one of three reasons; no money, assignments due or you’re sick. Or at least that’s what you tell yourself to justify staying in and binge watching Netflix from the comfort of your own bed. FOMO, also known as the fear of missing out, can be explained in these five stages:

1) Denial:

You tell yourself you’re not missing out, it’s one night, it’s probably going to be shite craic anyway. Who wants to stand in line for a club for half an hour in the wet and cold. Tan? Yeah no I’m embracing my natural paleness thanks! Prinks, yeah don’t want to lose at kings again and end up drinking a mix of wine, beer and vodka, I’m good right here with my tub of Hagen Dazs and my share pack of Doritos.

2) The Snapchat Stalk:

Oh the gangs all playing beer pong? That’s great, hate to be the one who has to clean that mess up in the morning. The Snapchat stalk is one of the worst stages of FOMO, it allows you to see exactly what you are missing out on, minute by minute from all of your friends accounts.


Your beer funnel can easily be repurposed to administer medical enemas when your friends body becomes dangerously dehydrated from alcohol poisoning.

3) Paranoia:

As you sit there wrapped in your duvet finishing the first episode of your binge, you wonder ‘Were nights out always that fun?’, ‘Are they having a better time without me?’. This is the third stage of FOMO, aka paranoia. A rush of panic flows over you as you wonder why you’re tucked up in bed before eleven on a Thursday night, are you wasting your precious college years?

4) Anger:

How could they just go out without you? You’re part of this group, if you’re in bed they should get that you really meant that the crew should all call over for a night in, and bring snacks with them. How did they miss that? Stage four aka Anger is where FOMO turns ugly.

5) Acceptance:

Well, there’s not much I can do about it now. As the clock strikes twelve the fear of FOMO slowly fades away and you shut off Netflix close your eyes and head to sleep, until your housemates come bursting through the door at half two. You’ve accepted that you didn’t go out and that is okay. Plus you’re more likely to go to college the next day and get shit done in peace while the crew stay in bed nursing their sore heads.

Aileen O’Leary