Welcome to Great Moments in Drunken Hookup Failure, where we showcase four heartwarming true stories of drunken love gone horribly awry. Off we go.
It is sophomore year, a nice fall Saturday night. I'm at a frat house full of douchebags. Somehow I managed to get into the party with a group of friends. This was an historic event, considering we were all sophomores and only had one girl in tow with us, usually an automatic turn down at the door. But the brosephs let us in and we started drinking, socializing, all that college crap.
A few hours go by, along with copious amounts of beer. Everyone is drunk. Me, in my drunken state, start to talk with some friends and a group of girls. I break off and have a conversation with one of said girls, and about a half hour goes by and things are going well. It's getting late, and the party's starting to wind down, so I take the girl outside and begin to make a move, which looks like a pretty good bet.
And just as I'm about to propose heading back (to my dorm, which, in hindsight, would never have worked out), I hear my buddy from across the yard:
"Hey dude! Did you tell her about the time we raped those broads?!?"
I freeze. She does, too. The event yelled about, of course never happened, and I'm hoping she thinks he was talking to someone else. My friend decides to make it clear that he was not. He walks up to us and makes his point abundantly clear:
"Yeah, me and him, earlier this year. We raped those broads. IT WAS AWESOME!" and offers me a high five. I just stand there, expressionless, drunk, mortified.
Before I can explain that my friend is a drunken, cockblocking fucktard, the girl bolts. I'm left standing there and my buddy and other friends are on the ground laughing.
Jesus Christ, what is wrong with you people?
I went to college in the ancient times before cell phones, Facebook, etc. also known as the mid-90's. There was a girl I fooled around with a few times, but hadn't gone further with, who asked me to go to a party with her. Of course I said yes, I already drank heavily every night without an invitation. The party was lame, but there was plenty of beer and I put a good share down. We then head out to the bars with a few of her friends. When we get to the bar, I spot a few of my friends playing foosball and I let the girl know I'm going to say hi and play a game or two and I'll catch up with her in a little while. Well, a friend of mine and I end up running the table, winning a shot for every game, and before I knew it, last call. I find the girl, she's not happy, but she leaves with me. My tales of being in the foosball zone were of no interest to her (I won't bore you, but my front-pin pull-kick was deadly that night).
We make it to her place, up to her room and blackout. Five hours later, I become aware that I am dreaming of taking a shit. WTF? Oh no! I am shitting in my sleep! I wake up, I'm face down thankfully, the shit is contained in my boxers/pants for now. I am on her bed on top of the covers, fully dressed including shoes, she is nowhere to be found. I slide off the bed, remaining on my stomach, careful not to leave any shit stains anywhere. Her room is connected to the bathroom, another bedroom is connected to the bathroom as well, no exit to the outside world. I try to clean up as quietly as possible, but there is a lot of liquefied shit. Boxers obviously toast, rinsed and wrung out, I think I put them in my pants pocket. And the pants (light colored khakis) had a huge stain right on the ass, cannot be concealed. I'm going to have to go back through her room, downstairs and a true walk of shame back to my place.
I open the door and she's awake in her room (she had slept on the floor, didn't see her earlier) and wondering why her room smells disgusting. She thinks I puked somewhere in it. I play stupid and tell her I'm going to go home, sorry for last night. She offers to give me a ride, and I, not wanting to walk down main street with shit stained pants, agree. I manage to keep facing her the whole time and try my best to sit on one cheek in the car. As far as I know, she never figured out what happened, she searched her entire room looking for vomit and said the smell lingered for a few days. And I never felt comfortable enough to tell her the truth, until now.
At a party after a basketball game I hit it off with this older girl I had met a couple times before at fraternity/sorority mixers. I must have been doing something right because we spent most of the night dancing and hanging out. At the end of the party we head back to her room. Her roommate was in, so we took our chat to a common room, which were never used for some reason.
Things started to get serious, pretty quickly, and since I'd gotten dome maybe once in my life at that point I was trying to keep calm. Things keep progressing and she decides she wants to go down on me. We were both pretty drunk, but functional as I remember this story (and the forthcoming pain) very well. She starts going at it, and I am in heaven. Then all of a sudden, I feel it: a minor twinge in my hamstring. I straighten my leg out because sometimes that helps with these things. I breathe deep trying to focus on the good part of what was going on, and then all of a sudden my entire right leg locked up. That kind of seizing, insanely stupid pain that is hard to describe, especially at the moment it happens. I jerk back and let out a little bitch squeal. She asks what was wrong and of course starts laughing hilariously. She helped me stretch it out, but after a moment of sobriety she realized where we were and the festivities were tabled for another evening. Just a good reminder to always drink water and eat bananas. Fucking hamstring cramps.
Logan's real name? You guessed it: Terry Glenn.
In the early 90s, I was stationed at 29 Palms at the Marine Corps Air Ground Combat Center. If you don't know, it's a huge shithole of a base in the California desert halfway between LA and the Arizona border. If there is a harder place to get laid in the US, I'd be surprised.
It was the end of the week and a typical guys hanging out at the barracks pounding cases of beers and playing spades kind of a night. It was starting to get dark and to our surprise a couple of WMs (women Marines) showed up. Well, there was one cute one and one typical one (think Corky from Life Goes On). Of course, Corky starts talking to me and it becomes obvious that she is wanting to get laid. My roommates are wanting a shot at the cute one so they are egging it on and proceed to leave the room to us. Now, women are allowed around the barracks, but we weren't supposed to be on their floor and they were not supposed to be in our rooms. But, we closed the door, hopped on the bed and got started.
So, I've got Corky's top off and I'm working on her shorts when my roommate comes flying through the window and lands on the bottom bunk while we're on the top. Apparently, they started arguing over the cute one and then proceeded to get into a full blown fight. The one that came through the window looked like the "Elephant Man" and of course, Corky runs off because we all know the MPs will be coming soon - and they did. About a week later Iraq invaded Kuwait. We deployed and I never saw Corky again.