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


When I was a freshman in college, I met a decent-looking girl "Emily" in one of my classes who immediately started flirting with me on the first day. I was 17 and new to the whole sex thing, so any interest from a girl was welcome. After a few awkward weeks of texting, we finally met up at a party and ended up banging that night in her dorm room. This turned into a weekly occurrence every Thursday: we would study for the quiz our class had every Friday, take some tequila shots, and bone.

One night, we take the tequila shots like usual, and before I had a chance to initiate the inexperienced lovemaking, she suggests we go out to a party she said her friend was having. It was a pretty packed house party, and we were the only white people there. It was kind of weird, but I didn't really have any problem with it other than the constant what-the-fuck-are-you-doing-here looks I got all night.

I stuck to her like glue and waited in anticipation for her to say it was time to go back to her place. After about 20 minutes, we're standing in the back yard, and I suddenly hear a guy's voice SCREAMING at someone. It took a second to realize it was directed at me and Emily. He steps forward and it's MARIO FUCKING MANNINGHAM. It turns out he had been banging this girl too, and I guess he got a little attached.

He pushes me back. I wanted to run home, but the drunk me thought it was a good idea to say, "Hey, fuck you." This was a bad idea, as Manningham turned around and starts shoving me back while spewing incomprehensible angry nonsense in my face. I shoved back once, but before it came to blows his friend and teammate Alan Branch steps in. All 6'6" 350 lbs of him looks at me and says, "watch yo'self." It was the scariest moment of my life, and I walked out before I shat myself in terror.

"Mind if we dance with yo dates?"


It was nearing the end of my freshman year of college: finals were over; girls were dressing in their most revealing spring garb, and I had two buddies visit me and my other high school friend for what was planning to be the last blow-out night of the year. At some point in the evening, we made our way down to the pathetically cheesy/disgusting dance club in the heart of my college's small town (curiously named the "Sports Garden") and took advantage of their "Penny Pitcher" promotion ($5 cover, all the pitchers of light beer you could consume before midnight. Our school eventually PLEADED with this bar to end the promotion, for obvious reasons, and got their way.) to an embarrassing degree. We all proceeded to dry hump our way through a handful of extremely average women while the earth shattering bass hits of Petey Pablo's "Freak-a-leak," DHT's "Listen to Your Heart" and DJ Sammy's "Heaven" were repeated ad naseum.

Near the end of the night, I happened to be simulating sex and making out under the strobe lights with the most average of the average looking women I came across, who actually lived a floor below me back on campus. As last call was announced and the night's closing song played (it was almost always Eddie Money's "Take Me Home Tonight."), she asked me to meet her at her room in forty-five minutes. I complied, especially because I needed to take care of my friends first before I went stomping off drunkenly for an extremely adequate tryst.

I shoved some late night food in front of my friends and made sure my high school friend I roomed with could let them back into our dorm. I sprinted across campus and found myself standing in front of the door of my dance partner, excited about gaining carnal knowledge from this woman.

She opened the door, laughed fairly hard (?) and invited me in. We stood there for a few awkward moments before she asked me, sweetly, "Do you want to play a game?" Although I definitely assumed way too much, way too quickly, I was shocked that this encounter all of the sudden had the potential to reach another level of kinky hookup greatness. In a slight daze I muttered "Yes," and she reached under her bed to grab fucking god knows what (Sex Toys? Fish bowls full of condoms? Handcuffs? Bags of ecstacy? WHAT?!), only to pull out an old, beat up version of almost certainly the fucking shittiest board game (if you could even call it that) that the Milton Bradley Company ever produced: Guess Who?

In my drunken stupor, I was still vaguely convinced that this was some form of extremely elaborate foreplay and excitedly plopped down on her shitty Ikea carpet prepared to play some hyper-sexualized version of the game I got for Christmas in 1992. This was a game I spent entirely too much time hating/sucking at as a seven-year-old child. I also slowly remembered the fact that I literally never won at this game as a kid and always despised the stupid faces of the fake population you were forced to play with. Babysitters, siblings, neighborhood kids, they all beat my ass at Guess Who? without remorse.

Then, a trigger switched. Rather quickly, my sexual appetite was overcome by the intense desire to beat the living shit out of this girl in fucking Guess Who? I felt like Beatrix Kiddo in Kill Bill when the sirens go off and the screen turns red right before she goes crazy and kills someone…only with…you know…Guess Who? You want know what happened next?

Only the most dominating performance of Guess Who? any human being could possibly imagine. 17 straight wins, with four coming on the first guess of the game (she would snicker anytime her character was an old lady, dead giveaway). I was like a fucking competitive mind reader and she was completely lost/baffled/freaked by how lights out I was playing this stupid, stupid game.

Suffice to say, the night ended with me, chest out, leaving her room during an extremely brief moment of deserved glory as she, stone faced, quickly closed her door behind me. Our clothes never came off and there was never a flirty moment after the first five minutes of my arrival. Did she ever really intend to use Guess Who? as an aphrodisiac? Was my weird, repressed childhood hatred of Guess Who? responsible for blowing a veritable sexual lay-up? Or did she really just want someone to play Guess Who? with her, regardless of the circumstances?

I will never know, and frankly, I don't want to know. All I have to say is, this is the kind of shit that happens at a small liberal arts college with 2000 students in the middle of fucking nowhere on a regular basis.


That was awesome. That girl's real name? You guessed it: Christine O'Donnell.



So it was winter break of my freshman year at college. While at home in central/northern Jersey, I received a call from my friend "John" from Philly that he was meeting up with his cousin at Princeton for a good time. Knowing people at Princeton, I graciously joined him. We started pre-gaming in John's cousin's room, and eventually met up with one of my female friends, Mary, from home that now went to Princeton. We went out to an Eating Club, and if you've never seen or heard of an Eating Club, they are ridiculous.

We opened giant oak doors to find kids playing pong on antique tables on top of Persian rugs underneath crystal chandeliers. In the basement was a wrap-a-round oak bar with taps and a 60 inch flat-screen on the wall of the dance floor strictly for displaying beach scenes. Anyways, we start getting pretty hammered, enough so that I pull the move of throwing up a mouthful of foam while pissing in the urinal. We decide to leave this particular eating club and head to another. There, I meet this girl and we start talking/dancing/making out. I never said I went to Princeton, but I sure didn't stop her from believing I did.

So as the night is ending and we stumble out of the place, she asks me, "So, your place or mine?" Of course, I said hers. After what felt like 3 hours, we finally make it back to her dorm and start hooking up. I realize I have to piss, excuse myself, and then get lost trying to get back. I thought I had blown it, but eventually I find my way back and I don't really remember much after that. I know we had sex because I woke up on my back with the condom still on me. I try to get dressed and sneak out. Predictably, I fall into a classic mistake and my jingling belt buckle wakes her up. She moans, "Where are you going?" I freeze, panicked, and utter "I have class" and run out. Naturally, it was Sunday.


Fast forward one year, I'm visiting Princeton again during my winter break with a friend form home this time. We go to an eating club, and I'm doing pretty well with Mary's roommate. Mary leaves with a guy and says we can have her room. We go back, and things are heating up. I am probably half way through a great BJ when there is a knock on the door followed by, "Lauren, are you in there? Is everything ok?" Before we could say anything, this girl unlocks the door somehow and without fail, it's the girl I snuck out on almost one year earlier to the day. She throws a fit, retells the story from last year, and the moment is ruined. I walk out of the room holding my clothes to find the RA and literally 10 people in the hall wondering what is going on. Before anyone can ask me any questions, I bolt out of there, and end up sleeping in my buddy's car freezing my ass off.


Jason Garrett says that is NOT a good eating, young man.


When I was just out of high school back in Pennsylvania I worked a part time job at a beer distributor. I was also dating this girl Jen during the time I worked there. Let me add that Jen's family and my boss' family were close friends. I would often have Jen come up and give me a BJ during the boring weekday nights. So one night I decided to crack open a free case of booze to start passing the time. About 6 beers in I started to catch a buzz and gave Jen a ring.

Within 30 minutes, Jen and I were in the back bathroom messing around. One thing leads to another and she starts going to town. A very important note is that the bathroom did not have a door, only a curtain, so there was no way to lock the bathroom. About ten minutes into my relaxation period, the curtain flies open and all I see is my boss standing there with a blank stare on his face. Jen jumps up and runs out of the place. My boss instantly starts questioning me about what's going on and I start asking him why he was there. My boss fired me for drinking on the job and not for having his best friend's daughter blowing me on the job.

So I left there with a terrible buzz and a full hard on. I continued to date Jen for a year after and nothing was ever said to her dad about it.


Remind me to work at a beer distributor.