Welcome to Great Moments in Drunken Hookup Failure, where we showcase four heartwarming true stories of drunken love gone horribly awry. Off we go.
The year is 1992 and I am visiting a buddy of mine at his college for the weekend. I also attend college, but for whatever reason, I had incredible luck getting laid at his school. Fast forward to about midnight and we're out on the dance floor moving in on a group of girls who obviously have been overserved. After a while, I am making out with one of them and she's getting pretty wild, right there on the dance floor. Next thing I know, she reaches down and starts aggressively rubbing my junk right there in front of everyone. There were alot of people dancing, so nobody really noticed. I knew right then that this had the makings of a wild night. After about another hour, she suggests we leave and go back to her place. I concur.
A little background........I was into my bodybuilding phase at that time. As part of my 'training', I ate a lot of eggs, tuna, broccoli, and drank lots of protein shakes. Anyone who has ever undertaken this diet knows that this can make one extremely flatulent. I mean, we're talking mustard gas that could clear out a room in seconds. This was a Saturday and we had been drinking heavily the night before. As such, I was dropping rancid bombs all day Saturday.
So we get back to her apartment and I head to the bathroom. I quickly realized that my underwear had paid the ultimate price that day. There were pretty noticeable skid marks and I was convinced that she would see them. I decided to take off my underwear and hid them underneath the sink in the back of the vanity. I walked out to find her already in bed, partly clothed. I go over and she quickly starts removing my jeans. She discovers that I am free-balling and suddenly finds this to be the strangest thing she's ever encountered. She suddenly starts making fun of me and asking me how in the world I could walk around like that. After a few minutes of this, the moment was ruined and I started getting a little pissed. It became obvious that our liaison was ending at this point, so I made an excuse and got the hell out of there.
Moral of the story: NEVER have a bodybuilding phase.
I was 19, living with my girlfriend(now wife) of 6 months or so who we'll call Kristen. I had just spent an entire work day unloading trucks for some shitty tent sale and was I just looking forward to getting as much sleep as possible before my 9 am class the next morning. Instead I come home to my apartment to see Kristen slamming beers with her best friend, we'll call her Carla. Some quick background: I'd known both of them for a few years, and it was pretty well known that they liked to make out with each other when they were drunk, and it was generally assumed by our friend group that they'd had gone further behind closed doors. But being a naive jackass, I always assumed it had never, and would never, go passed the kissing.
Anyway, the two of them were quite drunk and obnoxious. At first I was annoyed, I just wanted to relax and pass out. But they both insisted I get showered and dressed because they wanted to go find a bar or party, to finish the evening off right. So I hopped in the shower, but by the time I was out they were gone, so were my car keys. There was a note(paper plate to be more precise) taped to the door saying something to the effect of, "Wait up for us....be back soon. And if you ever want to have a threesome, tonight might be a good night."
The mere though that it might be true had me fucking shaking. For starters, I'm not attractive, I have little to no game, and Kristen was the only girl I'd ever had sex with. I tried to call both of their phones to see if they were screwing with me, but neither answered. In my nervousness, I started slamming the leftover beers while I paced around the apartment. I was about seven or eight beers deep before I knew it, and for me at 19, that meant I was completely hammered. Then came the height of my drunken stupidity, I laid down on the bed to watch TV, because of course being drunk, tired and watching Sports Center never puts anyone to sleep, right?
The next thing I remember is waking up in a panic with sunshine coming through the blinds. Once I got my bearings and realized Kristen wasn't asleep next to me I walked out to the living room to a disaster area. It was like a scene out of a bachelor party movie. Random beer cans and liquor bottles everywhere, clothes strewn about on the ground. And the pièce de résistance? The two girls were both passed out half-naked on our sofa bed. The thing was broken too; they're both lying on the side that wasn't at a 45 degree angle. Kristen started muttering incoherent sentences that involved her having to throw up and it being too bright in the room. Carla however, woke up quite chipper. This is a rough estimate of the conversation that followed:
Me – "…what the f*ck happened in here!?"
Carla – (now standing up to get dressed) "Good morning, sleepyhead. You really missed out last night."
Me – "Missed out on what?"
Carla – "We were gonna fuck you, but we had to make do with each other…..and I think we broke your couch."
I honestly don't think I even said a word, just stood there with my jaw hanging open while she got dressed and left. My girlfriend crawled into the bathroom and starting puking, she spent most of the day asleep. It wasn't until later that night that she confirmed what Carla said. They actually were going to have their way with me.
For weeks after I tried in vain to get that night to repeat itself, sans me falling asleep of course. Unfortunately Carla starting dating her soon-to-be husband a few months later and that pretty much sealed the deal on the threesome with her never happening again. I've tried to convince my wife to find another girl to party with and she always replies, "married women don't do that sort of thing". So in the end I was left with a broken sofa bed and the mental image of the two of them going at it for my spank bank, both of them screaming my name in ecstasy(slight artistic license).
Several years ago, when I was still single, I traveled for work a lot. I was in a small southern city working on a project which wrapped up a day earlier than expected. The nightlife in town was nonexistent so I ended up at the hotel bar that evening, nursing a series of watered-down whiskeys. I ended up sitting a couple seats down from a woman also there on business. She was attractive- petite, long blond hair, older (I was 27, she later told me she was 41). We made small talk about how bad the city is and how our employers clearly hated us for sending us here; after a couple more drinks, we were flirting pretty heavily. After a couple more drinks, she invited me to her room for another drink.
By the time she'd shut the door to her room, we were all over each other, articles of clothing coming off left and right. She had a pretty fabulous body, so I did what comes naturally and started to go downtown when she stopped me and said she was "just finishing up, so we'd better just fuck instead." One condom later, I've got her bent over and just before I enter, she starts pretty loudly yelling "YEAH! FUCK ME DADDY! FUCK ME DADDY!"
I thought it was a little weird, but was too horny to care too much. Then, as soon as I was inside, it changed to "Please fuck me Daddy! Please fuck your little girl!" My brain was getting confused, but the signal had not yet traveled far enough south, so I was still sorta-thrusting a little when she started repeating "Be my daddy and fuck your little girl!" this time accompanied by crying. That did it. Nothing short of an Amish barn-raising team was going to get my erection back at that point, so I did one big thrust, a loud fake-orgasmy "Grrraaraah!" pulled out and headed to the bathroom.
Once in the bathroom, I realized my entire pubic area was covered in no small amount of mucous-y blood. I took a deep breath, crept out the bathroom door...and saw her passed out, snoring loudly, with a big red stain soaking into the sheets. Needless to say, I've never enjoyed a shower in my own hotel room so much as the one I took roughly 42 seconds later.
She must have gone to Columbia.
Towards the end of second semester last year at my fairly prominent, midwestern, Catholic university, my all-male dorm had a dance to culminate our "spirit week." My roommate and our dates (who were from a neighboring all-female college), and I had been planning on going to an off campus party afterward, as our university has "parietals," whereby coeds cannot be in dorms of the opposite sex after 2 am on weekends. So after a couple hours of majestic dancing (i.e. awkwardly positioning my erection so that it doesn't poke directly into her ass), we hit up the afterparty and continue to get wasted. My roommate is having better luck than me, and eventually even gets a BJ in the bathroom of the party. Challenged, or maybe even inspired by his heroics, I insist that all four of go back to our dorm room to "break parietals" so I can even the BJ score with my roommate or maybe even one up him. My roommate was not thrilled with this as he had already closed the deal with his now blacked out date, and didn't want to get in trouble sneaking into the dorm. My borderline blackout self was very convincing ("Dude, don't fuckin' cockblock me!..."), however, and eventually everyone agreed and we cabbed it back to campus.
We stealthily get back to our room without being detected by any RAs or our Rector, and my roommate and his date go into our bedroom, me and my date take the common room. After about 5 minutes of sloppily making out on the futon, we are interrupted by my roommate at the side door, "They have to go. My girl is sick." Indeed, she had thrown up in our garbage can and was now crying on our floor. Being the gentlemen we were, we offer to walk the girls back to their dorm about a mile away. We're midway there when I notice that my date is walking barefoot since she didn't want to walk in her heels. Again demonstrating my chivalry, I sweep her off her feet and start carrying her on my shoulder (think Rudy being carried off the field). She's laughing and all is well when... BOOM! I lose balance and fall flat on my back. I lay there, paralyzed by pain, embarassment, and drunkenness as my roommate runs over to make sure my date is okay. I was fucking hurt, so she, falling from my shoulders, could have been dead. She had smacked her head hard as shit on the sidewalk, but luckily she wasn't bleeding. She was actually more concerned about me as I was still on my back after about 30 seconds. They walked the rest of the way home without us, I apologized effusively the next day, but she had lost any and all interest she once had in me. The double whammy! My heart, and my tailbone, broken into pieces
So remember, kids. If you want to get laid at Notre Dame, wear crampons.