Welcome to Great Moments in Drunken Hookup Failure, where we showcase four heartwarming true stories of drunken love gone horribly awry. Off we go.

Brian:

When I was an undergrad, I passed on the opportunity to go abroad, which I had always wanted to do. So after quitting my job and going back to school, I wasn't going to waste the chance to use a summer to have the cliche experience of "finding myself" in Europe. That's just code for spending too much money, getting really shitfaced, and doing reckless crap. Plus, I figured I could luck my way into getting laid.

The best example of this was my stop in Prague. At my hostel, I met two girls from Ohio who were heading out to a pub crawl. I had been on one in Rome and thought it was lame, but these girls were hot and that has a way of impairing my judgment. So I went.

The pub crawl started off in a bagel shop with an hour-and-a-half of all the Czech beer and unidentifiable neon-colored shots you can drink. And because walking across the room to get booze was just so inconvenient, we were brought platter after platter of booze. (But, sadly, no bagels.) With superior service like that it's very easy to get hammered very, very quickly.

So, we stagger to the next stop on the crawl where I meet two very hot Irish girls. Let's call them Emily (a blonde) and Kate (a brunette), not because I want to protect their identities but because I seriously don't remember what the hell their names are. I had lost the girls I came with and Emily seemed quite interested in me, so I directed my slurred, idiotic conversation at her.

Everything seemed to go well at first. We flirted as we staggered together to the next stop, ironically, an Irish bar. At this point, it's a miracle I'm still upright and alive. But, the desire to get laid combined with the though it could happen drove me to keep flirting—or at least, whatever flirting looked like with my BAC several times the legal limit.

I'm hardly good picking up women, but the influence of countless Czech beers told me to just reciprocate whatever this girl was doing. So when she was playfully shoving and hitting me and I thought that was my cue to do the same. Sadly, my impaired motor skills got the best of me.

Instead of a playful tap, I slapped her across the face.

Afterward, she stared at me looking not so much angry as completely stunned. She, like me, had no idea why the hell I did was I just did. I'm still functional enough to know that it was very bad, but I lacked the cognitive function to accept I had royally fucked up and just move on.

In my struggle to salvage the night, I ended up outside the bar with her pleading loudly for her to slap me across the face so we could be even. This seemed to be the best idea in my drunken, desperate state. She refused. She also refused to talk to me again that night. So, my night ended with about two hours of staggering through the empty streets of Prague alone searching for my hostel and feeling the hangover begin to form in my head. I was in bed until 3:00 p.m. the next day with a throbbing head from booze and shame... but mostly shame.

What did the five fingers say to the face? You don't deserve to get laid ever again you stupid, stupid man.

Indeed you don't. God, that's just brutal.

Jason:

It's around 2002 or so and I had recently graduated college and am working for an electronics company that is best known for making very thin, very crappy cellphones with vowels missing from their names. The time comes for the newest round of kids to come in for interviews and it is up to us, the most recent batch of college hires, to show them around, shuttle them from interview to interview, etc. It's the usual assortment of engineering dorks from various big 10 schools except for one. A six foot tall blond amazon from Georgia Tech named Stephanie.

There we a few furtive glances exchanged throughout the day, but no real conversation or flirting (mostly because I have no game and am a huge pussy) which is why after the scheduled dinner and HR recruiting presentation I was somewhat taken off guard when she raced over to me and started off with "I have GOT to talk to you ..." We proceeded to chat about what it was like to work at said company along with various other small talk BS. Now, the plan was always for the recent hires to take the interview candidates out on the town for the evening so I take this opportunity to suggest that Stephanie ride with me and I would get her downtown and back to her hotel later to which she agrees. This is where I make my fatal mistake ... I think nothing of having another one of the current employees, "Huggies", ride along with us. Fast forward through the night ... Stephanie and I chatting it up while I do my best not to appear too anxious or over pursue while Huggies proceeds to get sloppy drunk. The night comes to a close and I drive her back to the hotel with Huggies half unconscious in the back seat. As she's about to get out of the car she looks at me and says "Well, I would invite you up, but it looks like you have to babysit" as she motions to the back seat. I sat there for a good two minutes, mouth agape, as Huggies just cringed at the repercussions of his mere existence. Needless to say, she didn't get hired and I never saw here again.

Think of all the awkward office moments wasted!

Chris:

My friend, let's call him Arnold, does not get very much action; however, every once in awhile he will get lucky. Well, this was almost one of those occasions. At our fraternity there is a group of girls that only hang out there.

So, on this particular day, Arnold and one of these girls are at a party, when she looks him dead in the eyes and says "Just kiss me." Arnold is not one to pass up a sure thing, so he obliges her and they begin to make out. They then proceed to the football field. While lying on the 50 yard line, they engage in some heavy petting, when a cop shines his light on the field. Seeing this, they both get up and run away (Arnold is a very husky male) from where the cop is standing. The girl invites Arnold back to her room to continue. Inside the room they continue hooking up and Arnold starts to finger the girl, which makes her go crazy. Arnold continues to finger the girl and she continues to grunt and thrash around. Thinking that he is getting her off, Arnold intensifies his fingering. After another 30 seconds of hard fingering, the girl makes him stop, at which point Arnold realizes that she is in fact not having an orgasm but rather having an asthma attack. The girl scrambles for her inhaler and pills. Still wanting to hookup, Arnold rubs her back and tries to play it cool. However, he quickly realizes that she is not going to hook-up with him, so he gets up and leaves.

BWJ:

About 3 years ago a new nightclub opened up in town. Me and a couple dudes decide to head there for happy hour on a Wednesday. Being that it's a nightclub, there's not a lot of people there at 4:30 on humpday, but being that it's a new place to drink, there were enough people for there to be some talent present. My buddy hones in on a couple of lasses bellied up to the bar, so we saunter over and things go from there.

Soon, my friends want to continue the night elsewhere, but with my girl's hand firmly imprinted on my thigh, I decline. Next, the words, "well, when we get back to my place, don't be freaked out by the crib and toys...my two year old is with his dad," come out of her mouth, which does nothing but force myself to remember the condoms in my glovebox. We decide to head out, but there's one more order of business before we walk out the door. I excuse myself to go to the bathroom.

Except I didn't need to use the bathroom. See, about 40 minutes before this, after he struck out with the girl's friend, my buddy bet me $20 that I couldn't close. I needed to text him and rub my victory in his face. Once that was done, I walk out of the bathroom to see my girl chatting it up with another guy. Strange. So I walk past and tap her on the hip. I look back and she gives me the freaking death glare while shaking her head. Like: Not good. Get the fuck out of here if you know what's good for you. I'm willing to bet that this was the babby's daddy or something of the like. He had tattoos. I fled.

If I hadn't gone to gloat, we could have successfully slipped out the side door. Worst part is my buddy didn't believe me since I went straight to the bar everybody else was at without my girl. I had to fork up the twenty.

So, so richly deserved.