Welcome to Great Moments in Drunken Hookup Failure, where we showcase three heartwarming true stories of drunken love gone horribly awry. Off we go.
Before we get to this week's batch, time to sound out another call for more DHF entries. Have you been left blueballed and humiliated after a night out? You know where to find me.
My regular drinking buddies had all gone on a ski trip so I thought I had a precious weekend off to recover. NOT SO. Another friend called me up and said he'd been invited to the 21st party of some girl from high school, and there was a bar tab. Good enough for me. We pre-gamed way more than was reasonable or safe, especially considering this party would undoubtedly have the girl's grandparents and other assorted family members in attendance. Because it was at some classier type of establishment, we wore sports coats.
Anyway we showed up and, realizing the bar tab was already done, took it in turns to return to the parking lot where one enterprising bastard had stashed a couple of six-packs of those girly pre-mixed vodka-and-soda cans in the bushes. Needless to say, by the time the party wound down we were all lit up like Christmas trees and looking for more fun. A few of us went to another bar in the city and proceeded to get shittier. The buddy I had come with decided he was going home to fuck his girlfriend, leaving me to my devices. I struck out with one of our high school grade's sure things, so I decided to quit while I was well behind and leave.
I staggered to the train station, somewhere acquiring a sack of McDonald's along the way. When I got to the train platform I noticed there was a girl bemoaning the fact that she'd missed the last train to her stop and there wasn't another one until 6am. Hearing this, I generously offered that she could crash on my couch and I'd drop her home the next morning. Smooth. To my surprise she seemed agreeable and we made small talk while waiting for the train. It finally arrived and I got up to board, saying that the offer was open if she wanted. She joked "well, okay...as long as you're not a serial killer!" I assured her that I definitely wasn't. As we sat down across from each other, I took my jacket off and, as I put my hands in my lap, I realized in horror that they were spotted with dried blood. I don't mean "sacrificial lamb", but it was noticeable.
At one point or another that night I'd snagged a rough corner of a fingernail in the jacket sleeve as I was taking it off and it'd torn a bit of the nail off. I hadn't noticed until then ... but she definitely did. Her eyes grew huge and she bolted just before the train left the station. I wish I could say that was the last time I went home pissed off with a bag of McDonald's...but it wasn't.
I graduated from a small liberal arts college in the mid-Atlantic, and this story takes place in my last semester of school, which was spring 2007. It was a cold, snowy, Wednesday night, and my best friend, who we will call Papa Bear, invites me out to one of the local bars to have some beers with him and this girl he just started hooking up with, we will call her Amy, along with her roommate, who we will call Jen. At this moment in my life, I had a pretty hot girlfriend (who happened to be a miserable wench), and Jen had a boyfriend that had graduated a year earlier. So I was just going out for some fun socializing with no intentions of hooking up.
Papa Bear and I meet the two girls out, and we grab a booth. We are putting dents into some pitchers of Natty, telling funny stories and all in all just having a great, albeit low-key time. I start to notice that Jen is becoming very flirtatious. She's making comments, touching my leg, etc. All the tell-tale signs. Meanwhile, Papa Bear and Amy are in the honeymoon stage of their relationship, so they are not paying too much attention to the adultery that might go down across the table.
After a few hours of drinking, we decide to head out, with me and Papa Bear walking the girls home, as their house was on the way back to ours. (Plus, of course, we're gentlemen. Gentlemen trying to get laid.) Jen and I kind of trail behind Papa Bear and Amy on the walk, and we suddenly notice them pass Amy's house. This signals to me that they're heading back to my place, so I walk Jen to her door but suddenly puss out, think better of wrecking her relationship and mine.
However, as I am walking back to my house, I think better of it and say fuck it, I really want to hook up this girl because A) she is hot, and B) because she has a serious boyfriend, there's no way she will tell anyone about our tryst. I turn around and beeline it back to her house. Having made my decision about a half block from her house, Jen is not yet through her door. When she looks up to see me coming, I realized she must have wanted it more than I did even because her smile, to quote Ben Affleck in "Boiler Room" was "ear to fucking ear."
We get upstairs and she starts sort of pointing stuff out to me in a half assed attempt of a tour while taking the most direct route to her bedroom. Two things I notice while navigating through the house were 1. They have a cat, which I am probably allergic to. (Sometimes I'm perfectly fine and other times, I'll start getting watery eyes and itchy with in a hour.)
The second thing, which was more troubling than the cat at the time, was that her room doubled as a shrine to her boyfriend (who she is now married to). It was very creepy and awkward. Apparently, this doesn't really deter her or it's a test or something, as she begins getting undressed at her dresser while I sit on the bed, preparing for some seemingly imminent action. All of a sudden, the door to the house opens.
For whatever reason, Amy and Papa Bear returned to the house, where Amy immediately starts yelling, "What the fuck are you doing, you have a girlfriend asshole!" This is true, I did have a girlfriend who was also in her sorority, but that's not the point. This girl was seemingly unattainable, and this was a prime chance. As Amy walks away and I try to reclaim my game, I see Jen, who seemed to shrug off the accusation, just staring at me. Papa Bear strolls by and casually asks if I'm ok. I think he's trying to make good for his girlfriend's behavior, so I just say yea, I'm fine. But then he's like "No, I mean like your face..."
I grab a mirror on the dresser, and to my horror, I have hives ALL OVER my face and neck from that stupid cat. Sloth from Goonies would have had a better chance getting some than I would have at that moment. I immediately bounced, and Papa Bear came with me back to our house as I took Benadryl and played Madden with him til I fell asleep. The hives lasted a few days. The disappointment has lasted a few years still.
I was spending the summer in Laguna Beach with my parents. During weekend of July 4th I had 3 buddies from school come stay with me. We did what most 19 year kids do during the summer day, drink... a lot. So by the time night came we were usually 7 or 8 hours into a heavy, heavy buzz. Well on the 4th, we did just that and after a long day at the beach had to head home for the family BBQ.
After imitating what the sober people were doing at the BBQ my friends and I finally get the hell out of there, the food sobering my buddy Taylor up just enough to drive. We run to the liquor store and use his fake ID to get a mini keg (everyone in the group's first experience), a 30 rack, and 3 black label Sparks for each person. We head back to our drinking spot at the beach and proceed to chug our Sparks while talking about the dirty things we would do to Taylor Swift.
45 minutes later, were 10 minutes into what I like to call the "Deep Spine Warming" part of the buzz. Next up in the mini keg which surprisingly is only like 14 beers. Well my friends didn't like the mini keg much so they let me have at it. So this is were things get real and my brown out begins.
While working my way through the mini keg, one of my buddies who was hooking up with this girl a few years younger than us from high school was going to have her and a few of her friends meet us at the beach. An hour later, the girls show up, I have finished the mini keg and have been hammeredly nursing a beer for 10 or 15 minutes.
We head to one of the girls house cause her parents are on some yacht for a champagne party for the 4th. So I remember getting to her place and going around back to the deck where we would play drinking games and begin to hook up. One of the girls, we Brittany, was giving me stares. I couldn't decipher if it was because I was the drunkest one there or not.
So we play the PG drinking games when all of the sudden, Brittany, while looking into my eyes says "We should play truth or dare!"... Now I don't know if she's going to use this as an opportunity to hook up or to humiliate me to in a moment of weakness I ask my buddy Taylor to go take a pee with me.
We go around the corner of her house and start peeing. As most men do, I fart while peeing. Well, instead of farting I shit pants. A quality shit, like the kind of pants-shitting that takes place as an infant. It was warm, messy, smelly, and completely repulsive. I needed to rectify this immediately because during the pee Taylor had convinced me that he talked to one of Brittany's friends and she really wanted it. Well Taylor had his cup of beer from whatever drinking game they were playing and I realized I needed to use it to scoop the shit of my boxers so that I could go back and get it on with Brittany.
After some MAJOR cleanup, about 8 minutes total, (I claimed I had to talk to my mom on the phone), I get back to the group (the only open seat was right next to Brittany) and we begin playing Truth or Dare. Well Taylor goes Truth or Dare to Brittany and she says Dare. Taylor Dares her to make out with me... She looks at me, smiles, and goes in for it.
After about 15 seconds of making out, she recognizes the smell of shit steaming from my butt crack. So Taylor, covering for me, claims the smell is coming from a sewer near the beach. I needed to seize on this confusion to fix my issue so I claim my mom is pissed as hell, we're gonna run home check in with my Mom, and sneak right back out.
The girls buy it and it's going to get crackin with Brittany, so we haul ass home, I run inside turn the shower on, turn the shower head nozzle on my butt, clean it up, throw some deodorant on my butt cheeks and it's out the door. Well, unfortunately on the way back to meet up with the girls, the girls' parents had come home and the hopes for a little Independence Day lovin' were crushed. I never saw Brittany again and I don't think she ever knew she made out with a guy who had shit all up in his boxers.
Yes she did.