Oddly enough, the communal armoring metaphor has roots in history; says military historian Barry Strauss, the chair of Cornell’s department of history, “Arming scenes are a central feature of ancient literature. The most famous come from Homer’s Iliad, and ancient Greek art has many arming scenes that are often communal. Perhaps they’re meant to show warriors bucking up each other’s courage.”Obviously, I don’t mean that an evening out is literally like preparing yourself to die at the hands of a sword-wielder — but if there’s one constant in presenting yourself in a public place, surrounded by men, it’s the threat of violence. Unwanted sexual attention that leads to sexual harassment, assault, or rape is a constant concern in a woman’s life. Campus rape has become a national talking point. Go on Amazon, and you’ll find tutorials that instruct men on how to game their interactions with women for a better chance at sex by capitalizing on female insecurities. And then, on a daily basis, there are the hundreds of casual acts of injury that a young woman suffers because of her appearance.It’s not an easy thing to protect yourself while also having a good time (you’re still going out, remember?) — and for many women who haven’t yet developed the thick skin of adulthood, the pre-party is crucial to feeling like you’ve got control of your evening.All this brings me back to that Gchat my friend sent. At this point, I can’t even remember where the shot glasses are in my kitchen. The idea of lugging multiple outfit options to a friend’s home now sounds more like a punishment than a privilege. As we become older, we are less in need of that verbal validation that our outfits, our hair, and our vibes are on point. Going to a party alone used to terrify me. Now, I regularly do it for work, and I actually enjoy the freedom of aimlessly making the rounds, not feeling obligated to say hi to anyone. I’m in a place financially where I can afford to buy the kind of drinks that won’t make me feel like hell the next morning, and I don’t feel like I’m less of a woman for rejecting people who insist on buying me a shot. More important, the clothes I wear and the makeup I put on are for me alone; I don’t feel the need to ask anyone if the look "works."And yet, every once in awhile, I travel to a new city for a high school friend’s wedding or do a girls-only weekend trip. Suddenly, it seems perfectly natural again to get together with buddies whom I haven’t seen in a decade, crowded together in somebody’s hotel room, singing along to Meatloaf (sorry, not sorry) while swapping lipstick shades. The distance between us melts completely when I fix the curls on the back of someone’s head or help someone figure out the best way to avoid an ex. And facing high school-grown insecurities a decade later feels manageable — a mild challenge, no more — when you’re able to walk into the place with a comrade at your side.With all that in mind, I sat down to respond to my friend’s pre-party Gchat invite: “Definitely,” I typed, “I’ll bring the Jameson as long as you let me play Celine Dion.” It might be my first New York City pre-party in a long, long time, but it definitely won’t be my last.