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Dogs Are Not Your Manhood's Best Friend

Illustration for article titled Dogs Are Not Your Manhood's Best Friend

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


I had been living in a condo a few doors down from a very cute fitnessey girl who I would regularly see running throughout neighborhood with her large black lab. Over the course of the year I lived there, the opportunity to talk to Fitness Girl in a non-obvious way had never really presented itself, and in any event, I'm pretty sure she was With Man for most of that year anyway. Near the end of my lease, however, the stars aligned one late Saturday afternoon when she was taking her dog for a walk, and I happened to be outside getting my mail. Fitness Girl's lab pulled his leash away from her, and ran right up to me at my mailbox for an introduction. As I corralled "Sarge" for Fitness Girl, I whispered "thank you" in my new best buddy's ear for the opportunity to finally talk with Fitness Girl. Fitness Girl was very appreciative, and very open to flirty conversation, which proceeded for nearly an hour standing outside. During our conversation, I gleaned that Fitness Girl was no longer With Man, and had no plans for the evening, so I invited her over to hang out, have a few glasses of wine with me on my patio, and watch a movie. She's up for it.

Fitness Girl comes over about an hour or so later, with Sarge in tow. No problem, I thought, this will also give me the opportunity to show Fitness Girl what great buddies I am with Sarge. Over the course of our little date night, Fitness Girl and I proceeded pretty quickly from casual, sophisticated wine drinking to Consume-Whatever-Booze-Is-In-The-House mode. The physicality accelerated pretty quickly too, moving from patio lounging to close couch sitting to ravenous making out in only about 3-4 hours. Pretty soon it was obvious that Sexy Time was imminent, and Fitness Girl asked me where my bedroom was. We drunkenly fall all over each other up the stairs to my bedroom, and things do not slow down at all.

I am standing on the side of the bed, and Fitness Girl is laying back (her body was spectacularly fitnessey), and getting much more assertive and MUCH louder during Sexy Time. At this point I should note that my back was to my bedroom door, and as I myself was enjoying Sexy Time, I failed to hear anyone or anything bounding up the stairs.

Out of nowhere I take a huge check to the back, which plows me forward and sideways into the footboard of my bed. Sarge, it turns out, was no longer my buddy. Being very protective of Fitness Girl, Sarge heard her very loud enjoyment of Love as a threat, and had run up the stairs, reared up, and laid his giant paws into my back. (Either that, or Sarge was totally into me and feeling very betrayed, which with my luck would have been what was actually going on.) Fitness Girl realizes what's happening and starts to yell "OH MY GOD, I FORGOT TO PUT UP SARGE!" as he stands there growling at me.

Apparently, in our drunken amorousness, she had forgotten how protective Sarge is of her, and that she had to put Sarge into a closed room before we started Sexy Time. (Sarge was notorious, it seems, and had prior rap sheet.) The night, and Sexy Time, was through. I had a giant bruise on my forehead, a headache, and giant, bloody scratches on my back (unfortunately not from Fitness Girl). Worst part – my consulting firm sent me on the road for the next couple of weeks, and when I was actually in town, Fitness Girl and my schedules never matched up (I'm sure Sarge had something to do with that). The enthusiasm was lost. Never went on another date with Fitness Girl before I moved out.



For college I went to Rutgers and, during my third and fourth years, lived in a large university-operated apartment building. One weekend the guys down the hall were having a party. My roommates and I made the trek down the hall only to find a giant sausage party hovering around a beer pong table. After a few games I headed back down to my place for some shots and to see if there were any more options. Discovering none, I headed back only to discover that in my short absence the apartment had filled with chicks, some of whom were good looking. At the far end of the table was an incredibly attractive brunette who was being hit on relentlessly. Me being the smooth operator I am, took a seat close to her and, instead of talking to her, made jokes about those around us until she laughed and a conversation struck up. She was a couple of years older than me and a dancer at the Tropicana's Quarter in Atlantic City. The Quarter is a shopping/eating center that features one bar that has dancers on poles in the window.

We played a few games of beer pong during which some touching, flirting, and an exchanging of phone numbers took place. I ran back down to my place to freshen up and make sure the coast was clear for my triumphant return. While there I decided to piss to get it out of the way as not to interrupt the impending sexy time. Unfortunately while doing all of this my (drunk) ex begins texting me, playing the blame game on me and derailing me mentally, causing a big fight, and completely throwing my plans off. I have no recollection of how or when my night ended but when I woke up the next morning on my bathroom floor I had a handful of texts from my ex and many voicemails and texts from the brunette, all of them with some variation of, "Where are you?" I never saw her again.


I was pledging spring semester my freshman year and we had a mixer with one of the easier sororities on campus one evening. Before the festivities, the pledges from the sororitiy did an annual ritual of signing the boxers of each pledge in our fraternity. Apparently during the ceremony a smoking-hot chick I shared a few classes with had caught a glimpse of my manhood and taken a liking to me (I wouldn't know that until later).

So we move on to our house and the mixer begins. Drinks are flowing, everyone is talking, and about half of the people inside are hooking up - good times. Eventually, super-hot chick (who I had also been lusting after all semester) strikes up a conversation with me, mentioning that she had taken notice of me before in class. S-C-O-R-Fucking-E, I thought.

Rooms were filling up fast with people getting busy, so I had to make my move. We were soon making out, down to our underwear and involved in some heavy petting, with me taking care to peek every so often at her incredible, Victoria's Secret-like body. Then, just as she gripped my manhood in her hot hands, there was a loud bang on the door and a booming voice "(Name) are you in there? Don't do this to me!!"

Super-hot girl was panicked. "That's my ex-boyfriend. He has a heart condition. If he catches me in here with you, he might seriously have a heart attack."

"Ok," I say heroically, "Just hide behind the couch and I will distract him."

So, I venture out in the hall and pacify heart condition boy with a lie that I was trying to sleep and there wasn't an almost-naked girl inside. Luckily he bought my drunken story and quickly calmed down, but out of the corner of my eye, I saw super-hot chick, fully-clothed, dart out the back door and out of the house, never to return.

I'm glad the kid didn't die, and I ended up hooking up with the girl almost a year later, but fuck that heart condition guy.


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