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

JD:

My buddies and I were visiting New Orleans, and late one night ended up at a fancy bar on Lake Pontchartrain. Soon enough, I began making good time with this "classy" looking albeit plain-Jane brunette. Many rounds later and the girl and I headed to my friend's parked car for a heavy make out session that featured some decent petting.

It was good enough to secure the fact that I would be getting laid later tonight, so we put the plan on autopilot. We went back inside to join a group of friends she was outing with, one of whom included a smiling polo-shirted man who I made decent conversation with. Cool. I was now "in" with her friends.

So, Polo Guy and I are trading small talk and buying beers back and forth when I started becoming aware of some strange patterns forming. One, people kept coming up to Polo Guy and either shaking his hand or shaking their heads in disgust at him. My new friend was certainly a popular fellow. Secondly, all night the brunette kept slipping random racist comments into her conversations (mostly about the interracial couples in the bar).

Not sensing these ominous signs of hookup failure in the making, I soldiered on until I was told by a stranger in the men's bathroom about the "fucking pig asshole" I was buying beers for. I was then informed that my new friend was in fact David Duke, former Grand Wizard of the KKK. The year was 1992 when Duke had just come off a highly publicized run for Louisiana Governor.

My night was over. Due to critical moral issues, there would be no lovemaking with the brunette racist friend of the KKK.

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Look at Duke's hands in that photo. Disturbingly meaty.

Anon:

I went to a small college of about 3,000 students in the Midwest. I had some things going for me: I was relatively popular and well liked...but I was also overweight and a virgin (never sealed the deal), and thus kinda awkward around women I was interested in. Not so good. One random night as the party was winding down, my (strictly platonic) friend Eva calls me into the kitchen at this party. She was playing some random card game with some people and her roommate Leah. Eva tells me that we should hang out more often. I say something kind of dismissive, like "oh, we already hang out Eva, but ok." Eva replies "no WE should hang out more often" nodding towards Leah, and that's when I noticed Leah staring at me. Awesome.

Well, the very next weekend I'm at another house party and sure enough, Eva and Leah are there. I pound my first couple beers a little faster than usual to get a buzz going and to kill my nerves. I play some beerpong and do the usual party thing, and I even work up the courage to make small talk with Eva and Leah. I do my fare share of drinking, and I eventually need to take a piss. I was friends with the guys who lived in the house so they would always let me go upstairs to use their bathroom so I could avoid the comically long line downstairs...and as I'm coming downstairs, who is there waiting but Leah.

Before I know what is going on, Leah grabs me and we're full-on making out. We were there in this hallway for quite some time, and I work my way up her sweater and (eventually) under her bra, and I had those fabulous titties in my hands. Her response was two-fold: she unhooked her bra (YES!) and worked her hand down my pants (DOUBLE YES!!). It was approaching midnight, and the party hit a lull (the over 21 crowd was migrating towards the bars), so Leah pulls away and says, "that was fun. Eva is going to her BF's place tonight, so would you maybe want to come to my dorm and watch a movie...?" Let me think about that for a minute: FUCK YES. Now, there was a taxi service in town - it was $2 for a cab to take students to and from campus.

Well, Leah gets on her phone and calls us a cab...and I realize that I spent the last of my cash on my cup for the night. No big deal, right? Just say something suave like "Hey, I spent the last of the cash I had on me for my cup, can I buy you a coffee/lunch sometime?" I mean, she just had her tongue in my mouth and was playing with my dick, so there's at least a decent chance she'd want to she'd be willing to see me again, even if we hadn't done the deed quite yet. No: I FUCKING PANIC.

For some reason, I thought there was no way this was going to happen unless I came up with my own $2 for cab fare. I search the house high and low for someone who will loan me $2 so I can lose my v-card. No luck. I finally come across this girl, Anne, in the basement. Anne was a corpulent beast of a woman, and ask her if she can loan me $2. She can. AWESOME. She goes to hand me the money, and bam, she's all over me, trying to make out with me. Well, I guess my quest to find $2 took longer than I remembered, because Leah came downstairs looking for me right exactly when Anne assaulted me. She stood on the stairs for a couple seconds, laughed, and said "You've got to be fucking kidding me." She immediately turned around and left in the cab. Anne gave me this puzzled look, and I just collapsed into a couch and lit a cigarette, cursing her. To add insult to injury, I ended up having to take that stupid $2 from Anne and used it to take a cab back to campus. When I got back to my dorm, I once again found myself jacking it, thinking about Leah, but this time, with the extra frustration of knowing just how close I had come.

Luckily, it was towards the end of the school year, and Leah ended up transferring to a school closer to her home. I never saw her again. Eva and I remained good friends—we still correspond and hang out on occasion—and to this day she hasn't brought up Leah or what happened that fateful night. I don't know what happened to Anne (she also transferred), but I sincerely hope that both she and everyone she loves and holds dear dies a horrible, painful, lingering death.

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Mack:

Wife and I bought a house a couple years ago. Typical 50's rambler. Ugly as hell, but it was in the area we wanted for a good price. Lately have been having some mouse problems. Caught 6 in the last 2 weeks. The main spot is in the window well. There are ceiling tiles nailed to the beams above, so the mice have very little place to go, but they can smell the peanut butter in the trap and squeeze through to the ceiling that is a ledge next to the window. The violence of the trap shutting and crushing the mouse usually causes the trap to fall out of the ceiling.

So wife and I are recovering from our days at work and the time with our kids afterward that wear as out almost as much. Kids in bed, we both get some drink on and stream Weeds on Netflix. A couple drinks and episodes later, we're feeling tipsy and my wife is feeling pretty horny. Before I can move from the couch, all the lights go out and sexy time commences.

All is well with the world. Good time being had by all until we hear some scurrying in the ceiling. I stop for a second, catch my breath, wondering what wife is thinking about the scurrying going on up there. She must not have heard it, so I continue until...

SNAP!!!!

...Followed by some scratching, no doubt the little fellas final flails.

Wife definitely heard this. Grabs my arms, pushes me back off of her.

Oh, did I mention that this window and ceiling ledge is directly above our couch? The one we are currently using?

And remember how I said at the top that usually the mice fall from said ledge?

Well, as soon as I was pushed off her, down falls the trap with the now-dead mouse in it.

Onto my wife.

She screams, the trap flies across the room.

Well, you can guess that there was no happy ending. An exterminator has been called, the couch moved to a different part of the basement, and bluer balls than can be imagined.

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Oh I can imagine.