The First Time I… Went to Justin Bieber’s House Party

There’s a first time for everything, and I don’t just mean your “first time.” Of course, there’s vital, “right of passage” first times that everyone must encounter at some point, for example, moving to a new place, getting your heartbroken, and making your first humiliating, drunk decision. Yet first times are imperative to the better (or often, identical) mistakes we’ll make later, and teach us the lessons that we’ll continue to not learn from. Every week, we’re going to be telling real first time stories from real girls, and that includes everything from celebrity house parties to Instagram marriage proposals. 

The original plan that night was to do nothing, besides make quesadillas and drink $4 wine from Ralphs with my best friend, Alanah, naturally. However, LA had a different plan and being a young, decently attractive girl with other young, decently attractive girl friends, you end up at a party at Justin Bieber’s house instead. We were both broke, single and terribly caught up in our list of things to do that weekend which included “nothing” and “more nothing.”

Already a little tipsy off the clearance wine we had bought only an hour ago, I received a text from a mutual friend from school. She was the only southern California native out of the three of us, growing up in Agora Hills adjacent to Malibu amongst many movie stars, their kids, and their kids rich friends. She wore chokers and bell bottom jeans, and Alanah and I approached her one day after scoping out the entire class dubing her the best “new friend” candidate.  The text read,


Without even a word to Alanah, I responded promptly,


After Agustina instructed an oddly strict time and the address to meet at (which, no, I will not say, but I’m sure you can google it) I looked up wide eyed at Alanah.

“Change of plans, we’re going to Justin Bieber’s house tonight.” Alanah chose this time to reveal her well-concealed obsession for the tatted heart throb who we would soon be in dangerously close proximity to.

“Dude, I don’t care how much you love him, you gotta keep your chill and we have to be there in less than two hours so what the fuck do we wear?!” We frantically scurried to find something hopefully sexy to wear. Alanah threw on a striped mini dress, a black shag, long socks and heeled booties. With not nearly enough time for me to go all the way back to my own apartment and grab new clothes, I had to improvise. Unfortunately, Alanah and I were only blessed with a telepathic relationship and not the best-friend-same-size-shoe-miracle, which left me in Nike Air Maxes for the night. I balanced it out by utilizing the super sheer bra I was already wearing and layering an equally sheer, black, long-sleeve top over it, I stuck with the baggy boyfriend jeans I already had on, put on a little extra make-up and fixed my recently half-cornrowed hair. Baggy jeans on, nipples out.

We got in the car and blindly started driving, completely oblivious as to where the provided address was actually taking us. Agustina had given us extremely strict instructions to “not be late” with little explanation as to why there was such enforcement, other than the fact that a guy she knew would be getting us in and he simply would not wait for us if we weren’t on time. Were we going to a different house first and then to Justin’s so we wouldn’t have his address? Would Justin really be there? Was this seriously happening? What does his hair look like right now?

Alanah was getting nervous. I was becoming increasingly confused. Agustina was texting me urgently saying if we didn’t get there that minute, she was leaving her phone outside. We pulled up at 11:00 on the dot, catching Agustina just before she was ushered inside with 4 other girls by “the guy”, who I expected to be a much bigger, more intimidating character. The friend of Bieber’s didn’t look like he could be much older than a high school graduate. We were taken inside with Agustina and a bundle girls who clearly came straight out of Malibu. We were told to leave our phones in our cars or they would be confiscated. Understandable.

We walked through the garage and up a staircase that led to a house that resembled a spaceship; an entirely glass circle which surrounded an open courtyard with a larger-than-life compass overhead that faced the stars. With an infinity pool dangling off the cliffside, a chair-trampoline-contraption and a fridge as big as my room, the most startling detail was the fact that we were the first ones there. Besides a DJ and a guy who resembled Harry Styles playing guitar in the kitchen, we were it. I started to question if we were at the right house. A girl commented on my nipples in the fluorescently lit bathroom. Tequila and orange juice were set out on the glass tables. A light went on in the upstairs master bathroom. Justin Bieber washing his hands.

Okay, so he was here. Interesting. The girl next to me who I didn’t know in the slightest leaned over, her stare towards the upstairs bathroom unlingering, whispered, “Low key, I’m obsessed with him.”

I really never cared for Justin in that way. Sure, he’s attractive, talented, rich, and ‘All That Matters’ is my jam, however, I never developed that “Bieber fever.” But tonight I was sure to catch something surrounded by all these infected females.

Justin came down from the bedroom to the courtyard and politely greeted us, sunglass free, and asked us our names and each of our ages. We politely responded with the ages we were soon to turn rather than anything accurate. He probably found this humorous and then walked off to greet new arrivals to the party that had yet to start. With the tequila starting to warm us and a soccer ball sitting immobile in the courtyard, my friends and I began a game, which Justin and his friends soon joined. Drinks were flying everywhere, and the ball was soon a bull in a china store. Nikes were a solid choice.

The house had now become a house party, as nearing 12:30 AM guests were now packing in, including an assortment of Swedish fashion bloggers and Chris Brown. Alanah and I took tequila shots in the kitchen. One of Agustina’s friends had been kicked out and then mysteriously let back in, and was crying in the courtyard. Buckets of Nerf guns were passed out and a battle had broke out amongst Bieber and his boys. My drunken motor skills prohibited me from partaking.

When it came time to leave, Alanah and I grabbed an Uber with a particular Vine star that Alanah had “befriended” back to his apartment. And by “befriended” I mean pretended to bump into, and after he had looked her up and down, was sitting on his lap according to plan. How or when we got to his place in Hollywood is still a blurry memory to me, but before completely passing out into a deep intoxicated slumber, I managed to text the guy I’d been seeing for the past month or two asking him to pick me up, without ever giving an address. Luckily I went unconscious beforehand, because I never would have been able to give him an accurate one.

The next day, I shot out of sleep to Alanah tapping me. We were in a huge, luxury, clearly pre-furnished apartment on Sunset Blvd, and all alone. “Is that the real time?!” I asked in a panic, seeing the time on the cable box. We called an Uber immediately as I had to be at work in less than two hours. And we still had to go get Alanah’s car which was waiting patiently outside of Justin’s house.

We gave the Uber driver a great story to tell as we took the walk of shame into his car, and then directed him to Justin’s glass house, which to his surprise, didn’t disappoint. I managed to get to work on time that morning in the same outfit (concealed nipples, of course) hungover as ever with a “last night” story to tell that no one would believe.

The dude that I was seeing ended up getting overly dramatic about my drunken pleas and we stopped seeing each other. Seriously, thank you Justin. I never even told him where I had been that night that was responsible for getting me that intoxicated. That still makes me smirk to this day. Alanah found out she may have done some slightly illegal things with a guy who had yet to graduate high school. We both agreed there was no fault that could bring us down from the Bieber high that we were still riding. Remember those stories we heard of Mick Jagger’s infamous parties and the people who went to those? And maybe our parents partied with celebrities back in their day when music was real and the ones throwing them weren’t underage? Yeah, this would be one of those stories.

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