Welcome to Great Moments in Drunken Hookup Failure, where we showcase four heartwarming true stories of drunken love gone horribly awry. Off we go.
I studied abroad and spent a weekend in Prague with a handful of friends. We had an apartment close to the American-favorite club simply named Music Club. Since we were staying close, I didn't wear a coat, even though the Eastern Bloc in the middle of January is as icy as my mom is to all of my ex-girlfriends.
The club was a five-story mess of European dance music, 90's pop hits, and rap. My collection of white Catholic-school friends hunkered down on the rap floor. We were Ugly American Bros and we knew every lyric to every song. Czech ladies were drawn to this.
I began to dance and make out with a certain one and the night was moving along nicely. We enjoyed an hour or so of belting out early Eminem songs with my friends and hers. The lights came up, and she invited me back with her. I couldn't take her back to my place because we crammed a dozen guys in a place for four.
We walked a few blocks to an above-ground train stop. She tells me not to worry - she's close. Dressed only in jeans and a button-down (Shit, it probably even had vertical stripes. Mistakes were made), I figure it won't take long to warm up.
We hop on the train and I realize I'm out of Czech cash. She says not to worry.
The five minute ride turns into ten. I start falling asleep. I've always said that I have mild narcolepsy. I've definitely gotten on trains in NY and SF and have woken up at the end of the line. Sure enough, I pass out.
I wake up to her moving my shoulder. "We're here," she says. Nearly blacked out, I don't know who "we" is or where "here" is. It took me a minute to remember I was in Prague. But now, I wasn't in Prague. I was about an hour outside of it.
I faintly faintly remember getting off of the train only to see towers and towers of communist-era housing. The sun was coming up and there was a fog in the air. It looked cinematic. Fake, but at the same time, the physical manifestation of an amazing CGI artist. I was shivering.
When we left the club, I had no doubt I was going to sleep with Oksana, or whatever her name was. I was pretty sure because at various I had my hand down her pants and she had hers down mine. Or maybe it was when she said "Take me home and fuck me" in that amazing Eastern European accent.
But, based on the passing out, and the fact that she just then decided to tell me she lived with her parents, she told me I wasn't invited inside. I was dumbfounded (and so damn naive). She simply said, "Your train is there" while pointing across the way.
Wondering how I'd tell my family I got frostbite, and still without cash, I waited a while for a train. I got one in the direction of the city. Thirty minutes in, I was given a $75 ticket for not paying my fare. It took another hour and a half to get back to my apartment.
Told this story to a guy who lived in Prague for a while. Said it happens all the time—the Oksanas of the highrises just want to get home safely. Lovely.
Senior year of college, I'm out at the local bar after a football game. I tangentially worked with the team, so I knew some of the players. One of the captains sees me and quickly buys me a drink. I certainly didn't need it by that point in the night, but I happily drank it. He was there with guys I didn't recognize, so I assumed they were friends from home.
While standing there drinking, a couple of girls I knew from class and their friend Megan came up to the bar. I had seen Megan around before, but I'd never talked to her or introduced to her. She was tall, with wavy red hair, and the look that she might be a little reserved at first, but once things started she'd be a real goer.
We talk for a while, I must have bought a few more drinks, and every once in a while one of the football players friends would pop his head in and say, "I'm Tom" and another would say, "I'm Megan." At first it was funny, but the drunker I got the weirder it seemed.
Finally I ask Megan if she wants to dance, and she says yes. So as we walk to the dance floor, and I picture us getting naked in the immediate future, I hear one last time, "I'm Tom," "I'm Megan." This one totally freaks me out. I grab Megan's face (think Macaulay Culkin, but with my hands) and tell her, "I'm Tom, and you're Megan" over and over again. I turned around, and Megan used this opportunity to escape from the drunken goon clutching her face. I never talked to her again.
So I was in my second semester senior year at 21 years old and out at a party organized for the senior class. I see this girl Jenny who I had made out with before a year ago but never went further because she was a virgin and I didn't want a relationship or to be her first. She sees me and seems very into me from the start, to add to this we run into a mutual friend who she is close to who says, "Have you told him the news yet" with a sheepish look. I take this as a good sign as I knew that this guy had recently lost his virginity so I made the drunk correlation that obviously the reason she was overtly into me was she had lost her virginity and wanted to do the deed.
She had her roommate with her, but her roommate was cute and I had my friend there and they start hitting it off. I spend the night talking and horribly dancing with the girl as my roommate strolls in and out of the scene. Anyway as we hear the chartered bus taking people back to campus was there (I live off campus but the girls live on campus) they are ready to leave but I can't find my roommate so go to look for him. They have to make the bus so I say Ill text her. I find my roommate, scramble outside up the block to a cab when I hear someone calling out my name. We see the girl and her roommate ditching the line for the bus and running up the block in heels to get in the cab with us. We think we are golden.
For some reason they want us to go back to their place which is fine. We get inside the first door to the apartment complex but instead of going up it seems that the roommate has some inhibitions so we are standing in the lobby. This is fine, it seems the last line of defense. My girl is still into me it seems and think it's just a sobering-up process. After half an hour of standing around drunk talking the roommate says to Jenny "Don't you have some news to tell him?" I say, "What? You're married?" in an extremely sarcastic tone and the roommate goes "Yeah she's engaged, the ring is upstairs." Within the last two months her on-again, off-again boyfriend from high school had proposed. Dejected, we left.