Welcome to Great Moments in Drunken Hookup Failure, where we showcase five heartwarming true stories of drunken love gone horribly awry. Off we go.
I'm the drummer in a band. Gig night, great show. In the middle of the set, I hear my bass player wishing a Happy Birthday to his buddy. Let's call him Leroy. Somebody buys Leroy and the band a round of shots. Awesome, there's a strange phenomenon when onstage with rock instruments. Your tolerance doubles for some reason. This happens between songs the rest of the way out. Song, shot, song, shot…
I'm living with my girlfriend and she made me a deal that I'd never bang a groupie, and I said that she had to act like one on gig nights. So coming off stage just begins the countdown for me. But no, it's Leroy's night. So we all keep buying this guy drinks. He's getting obliterated but there's too many people partying to get a good consensus "We should stop" decision made. I've done my time and I don't want whiskey-dick. Let's get out of here.
I get stopped. Leroy can't drive (no shit) and he has to stay at my place (closest to the venue). One of those band arguments starts where everybody is drunk and yells and gets dramatic and then it's settled with "you owe me a beer, asshole". So we take Leroy.
I have a leather sofa that pulls out into a bed and I leave blankets and pillows crammed in that fold specifically so I don't have to do anything when Drunk Buddy shows up. Pass out Leroy. Bu-bye.
Considering it's groupie sex night, I don't worry that there is nothing but a cheap cardboard door between us and Leroy. A groupie wouldn't care. But, of course, she's blocking bodyparts from my gropes like Martin Broduer. Screw you Leroy. I continue for an hour. Sliding clothes off her and going for it. Nope. She offers the "super-silent-senior-in-high-school" sex. Fine.
All of a sudden, an unbelievable stench arrived. A steel dildo would have gone limp. Then we hear our kitchen cupboards banging around. The front door open and close. More cupboards. WTF is that smell? She gives me that "you better do something or you won't see any for a week" look. I throw jeans on and open the bedroom door.
The smell arrives like a fog and I swear it almost killed me. Leroy is smoking a cigarette ass-naked standing in the frame of the front door. ALL the kitchen cupboards are open. Then this…
"What is that smell?"
(calmly) "It's not good."
"I know THAT, what is it?"
He turns away and his entire backside is smeared with shit. I can make out the tracks on the couch blankets. I'm taking it all in slow motion style now. Why are my kitchen cabinets open? Why is he outside? How does this happen?
Found out later that the kitchen cabinets are open because he had trouble finding the paper towels to clean up. (They were on the counter right out in the open). He found the towels and began wiping himself and the bed off. He then realized he wanted to hide the evidence and the genius was going outside and throwing the shitty paper towels on my roof. I check that out and there is probably an entire roll up there. A roof covered in shitty paper towels. I wonder if any of my neighbors or any security cameras caught a drunk naked man with shit smeared on half his body throwing shitty paper towels on my roof.
I never resumed any fun. I let him take a shower and I took him to his car. He apologized profusely and I tried to be cool. I almost lost it when he said "Every time I shit myself like that it seems so inappropriate."
We threw the couch away immediately.
Bad, bad Leroy Brown.
My friends and I were out at a local college bar when a bachelorette party came through. The girls did the usual selling of lollipops and one girl named Brandi I recognized from a business class and we started talking. She asked what we were doing later because the party was lame and I gave her my number. Fast forward 3 hours and she calls. By this time I'm walking home and we talk as I walk. She agrees to pick me up on my route and come back to my place. She picks me up just hammered driving a giant Dodge Ram with a cow catcher in front, but I figure I'm going to get some so ride with anyway. We pull into my parking lot and before she gets it into park we start making out. The kissing becomes intense and we eventually move to the middle of the cab. She never put the truck into park and it starts moving forward hopping a curb crashing into a downstairs apartment. While the car was moving she tried to get back into her seat but was unable to because my hand was down her pants. Needless to say when you cause $10K in damage and get a DUI you're not exactly "DTF." I was never able to get close with her again.
I do the standard meet-a-girl-bring-her-back-to-your-place thing. She had a friend attached at the hip, but one of my roommates was interested in her, so I'm figuring she'll be no problem. We get back, have a courtesy hangout for about five minutes, and then me and this girl go to my room. Things are going well, we're making out, her shirt comes off, my shirt comes off, her bra comes of, her pants come off.
And then it comes time for my pants to come off. And as she's just about to undo my belt and proceed to go down on me, her friend inexplicably starts pounding on my door yelling at her about how they need to leave.
Turns out, two of my roommates were hanging out with her friend out in the living room. And the roommate interested in her quickly decided he actually wasn't, and to entertain themselves they started verbally assaulting this poor girl. For some reason, they called her potato face. And nigger girl. (She was white).
So, understandably, she wanted to get right the fuck out of there. And my girl agreed. And my blowjob never was.
Drunk roommates and casual racism, no better cockblock there ever was.
You see how evil racism is?
After a particularly depressing week at work, I decided to blow off steam with beer and Jameson shots while watching baseball and hockey. Both my teams lost, even my fantasy team was getting its ass kicked… So, several hours later (during which time I was continuously alternating between shots and pints), I elected to cheer myself up with a visit to the Fuck Buddy. However, getting to his place required catching a bus. The trip was long enough that I was convinced I'd somewhat sobered up on the way; and then stepping off, my heel hit the sidewalk at a bad angle, and I ripped open my ankle and knee.
Bad enough that I had an audience for the fall and the momentary wardrobe malfunction when the back of my dress flew up. Worse is that by the time I limped to the Fuck Buddy's, my foot, stiletto and dress were bloody messes, and one of my toes was practically black. Oh, and I'd forgotten that his father was visiting for the weekend and sitting right there when I walked in. FB spent the better part of a half-hour applying first aid and expressing his concerns over how much I had been drinking that night before I finally passed out in his bed.
All applications to be Char's fuck buddy should be directed to firstname.lastname@example.org.
A couple of months ago one of my fraternity brothers decided to celebrate his birthday at Medieval Times. His girlfriend decided to bring one of her friends who I had hooked up with a few times before this incident. My friend arranged for a party bus to take us all from Manhattan to Medieval Times in Jersey. Needless to say, we are all pretty hammered by the time we get there.
We walk inside, stumble to our stadium seating and proceed to order goblets of tasty beer. We are in the red knight's section and everyone is cheering hard for him. Somehow our group of friends gets some red face paint and we all go to town. Half of my face is painted red, and the girl asks me to draw some hearts and whatnot on her. These were not the most legible drawings, as you can imagine.
Throughout the show the girl keeps making out with me, but we are in a family establishment, so we decide to find some privacy. She starts leading me towards the bathrooms before noticing a sign that says employees only. We go in to find 5 offices, but luckily no employees. She picks out one with a big desk, and we lock the door behind us. There are a bunch of files on the desk. I throw them all over the room (which was an amazing feeling at the time). I put her on the desk and we start going at it. Within 15 minutes there is a knock on the door. We clean ourselves up a little bit and open the door to find a man and woman standing at the door. Bewilderment does not even begin to describe the look on their faces. Between the face paint, and the fact that we are in a Medieval times, I can't begin to imagine what went through their heads. I tell them we were looking for the bathroom. Somehow they buy it and point us in the right direction.
Shortly after getting back to our seats, we are accosted by a waiter (dressed as a knight). He tells us we need to go talk to the manager, which we feel obliged to accept. This happens to be the same guy who had knocked on the door. He says "my files are all over the place and we have cameras in that room. If you were doing anything crazy in there, the cops are going to arrest you for trespassing after the show". We nod and smile, then return to our seats. The girl starts crying and wants to call her dad, because he is a lawyer.
A lawyer is no match FOR A LANCE.