Welcome to Great Moments in Drunken Hookup Failure, where we showcase three heartwarming true stories of drunken love gone horribly awry. Off we go.
My senior year in college, I got the ultimate chance to get with a girl that I had been eyeing for years. I went to a small school, so the first 2 or 3 football games of the season was always a good way to look for girls. During my sophomore year while at one of these games, I saw a girl that just blew me away. Drop-dead gorgeous. Even to this day, I still think of how pretty she was. Let's call her Lilly.
Fast forward to my senior year. I now play basketball for the schools team (I was a neighborhood superstar amongst the rec leagues and pick up games for too long and had been playing with the schools team during spring so I tried out and made it), so I know a few more people and get a little more attention than I used to. By this time in my college experience, I was smoking weed at least 3 times a week (I didn't get much playing time at this point so why not?). Another one of my bench buddies was a real cool guy, and he was a ladies man. He was fearless (even though he never showered after practice or games?). I was talking to him about smoking and he tells me that his roommate, Lilly, is a cute girl that smokes weed all the time and that we'd be a good fit for each other. I oblige and he invites her to the next basketball party. I get there a little late, but when I find him he's ready to go. He takes me to her, and yes, it's the same girl that I had crushed on two years prior. I almost pee'd my pants I was so excited. She was still fine as hell and she was into the same times of stuff as me, including smoking. All the time! We hit it off and exchange numbers and the process begins.
A week or so of telephoning later, we set up a date, and she flakes on me (we were supposed to go watch a sunrise after a 2 mile hike up the local mountain). I find out from her roommate later in the day that she had honestly over slept and planned on making it up to me. She calls me up later that day and was so apologetic and told me that she cooked something for me to make it up to me. She says she'll drop it off on her way to her next class since I lived fairly close to campus. Lilly shows up, drops it off, and heads on to class. What was it you ask? Cornbread. Jiffy Cornbread. Mind you, I'm black, and she's not. At this school, getting a date wasn't the easiest thing in the world if it wasn't someone apart of another minority, so it was a big deal that this sorority girl was into me. So when someone makes you cornbread and has no clue that you like cornbread, it's a little funny style. Maybe I didn't like cornbread! Maybe I didn't like bananas or fried chicken either! Whatever. I got over it because I was hoping that she had good intentions. I told my teammate about it and he cringed just as I had done. He asked her about it, and she eventually realized that she had made a little mistake too. She called me up and left a message to apologize once again. By this time, my roommates saw the cornbread and had inquired where it came from. I told them and we all got a good laugh out of it, but were all very optimistic because at least she was trying to relate (albeit incorrectly).
For some reason that night, I didn't want to go out. Well guess who did go out? Yes, Lilly. My teammate told her that my friends would be at this club, so she tagged along with him. This was towards the end of the school year, so my friends were pretty much going all out at anything with long hair. They bump into Lilly and proceed to ask her when was she going to make them cornbread. They badger her so much that she breaks down to tears and she eventually runs off. My roommates come home crying they were laughing so hard about making her cry. They told me what happened and I was furious. After a few unreturned phone calls, I saw Lilly on campus three days later and she wouldn't even talk to me. She wouldn't even look in my direction. She just told me to piss off and leave her alone.
To this day, I curse the day Lilly made me cornbread. What's wrong with blueberry muffins?
A couple buddies of mine were friends with a girl from their high school who had just gotten a boob job and become a stripper. This girl was smoking hot. My buddy calls me and tells me that "Cindy" and one of her stripper friends had just moved into a new apartment down the street from mine. They wanted us to roll over to drink and hang out. Two strippers and beer? I was in.
I picked up a case of beer and headed over to Cindy's apartment. It was me, two of my buddies and two drop-dead gorgeous strippers. We played a couple drinking games and the whole time these two chicks keep flashing their tits to us. I knew at least one of us was going to get some action that night.
Cut to about two hours later and we're all sufficiently smashed. Cindy can't keep her hands off of me. The other stripper has no interest in my buddies, so she goes to bed and my buddies take off. Cindy and I move to the bedroom (these two strippers shared a bed in a one bedroom apartment) and she gets her top off and is now in just her panties. We're making out pretty heavily when she stops and tells me that she can't fuck me with her friend there, but she's going to be home alone the next day and if I come over we can go at it all day. Perfect, except I have to work. I tell her that I'll see what I can do.
The next day at work I talked to my boss, who was a younger guy and cool as shit. I tell him about hooking up with Cindy and ask if I can take off for a couple hours to hook up. He seemed as excited about it as I was. He was a great boss.
So, since it's a slow day at work I start telling the four or five guys on my shift about what went down the night before and what was going to go down that day. The guys were all into the story except one older guy. He asked me where Cindy was from and I told him the name of the small town she grew up in. He asked what she looked like and I described her, leaving out no detail. He looks me dead in the eye and says, "That's my niece." I thought the guy was messing with me until he told me Cindy's stripper friend's name and described what she looked like as well. I apologized and went on about my business.
About fifteen minutes later I got a voicemail on my phone from Cindy. The voice on that message sounded like what I'd imagine a pissed off English soccer hooligan would sound like. "Hey, you're a FUCKING ASSHOLE and if you EVER show up at the club I'll have all the bouncers BEAT YOUR ASS! And, YOU'RE NEVER GOING TO FUCK ME NOW!" Needless to say, the uncle called Cindy and told her about the upcoming conquest I was planning.
And, I live in a city of 6 million people. What are the chances?
Given the way you ran your mouth? HIGH.
My buddy John and I are in Munich on our requisite upper-middle class white kid post-college trip. We're at the Hofbrauhaus doing work on 1-gallon steins. I am not a large guy, being under 5' 5'', and yet I still managed to put back 4 of these things. Relying on the help of a (sober) stranger, we found our way back to the hostel we were staying. Luckily there were a bunch of girls there so we didn't even go out again, we just hung out in the bar in the basement of the hostel all night.
So we're chatting girls up and there's this cute girl from Turkey there that we'll call Hailey. There are a bunch of us around a table chatting and having a good time drinking this imitation jaeger. I'm keeping this girl laughing and she seems interested. I learn that she's leaving early in the morning to go home so I know if anything is going to happen, it needs to be tonight. After a while, my still-drunk self realizes that everyone else has slowly migrated to other parts of the bar and it's just Hailey and me at this table. We're all over each other and I'm getting my hopes up. Both of us know where this is going at this point. We continue having a good time and I honestly don't even remember when she got up but I was sitting there and she was gone. I looked around and she was nowhere to be found. People were having fun but my thought process was "Girl's gone? I'm drunk. Sleep now." I go up to my room, take off my pants and pass out on my bed. Didn't even get under the covers.
The next day I'm talking about it with John and he laughs and tells me the most excruciating part of the story for me. Apparently, she had gone to the bathroom and when she came back I was gone. In addition, she didn't have a bed in the hostel that night because she had to leave at 3am to catch her early flight. John, being the gentleman he is, offers up his bed to her. He knew he'd be out drinking all night anyway and wouldn't need it. So he brings her up to the room we're staying in, shows her his bed, which is in the bunk above mine, and he leaves. So this is my life. Passed out on the bunk beneath the cute Turkish chick I was surely going to bang, sans pants. I was so out cold I never even knew she was in the room.