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

At college orientation I made friends with a smokin' hot girl who was also cool and a sweetheart. Problem; boyfriend.

First night of freshman year comes around, I meet up with said girl and discover that the Gods have favored me; she's newly single. We spend most of the night hanging out, getting WASTED, and having a great time together. We end up back in her room, on her top bunk, making out.

I have her shirt off and she's got BOTH hands down my pants; things are looking good. Suddenly, a loud knocking on the door. We hear several guys' voices who live on her hall, they are drunk and want to hit her up for EasyMac. They are persistant, "We know you're in there!" This girl is trashed and straddling me. In her excitement/confusion, she tries to get up, but, with her hands caught in my boxers and too much jungle juice and Natty Light coursing through her veins, proceeds to fall off her top bunk in spectacular fashion, hitting the floor like a dead body.

This wakes her roommate, who was asleep beneath us the entire time. Lights come on, the door opens, and 3 drunk dudes come stumbling in. I decide that the best course of action is to lie totally still, plastered up against the wall and partially covered by her disheveled bedding until the situation dies down. For a minute this works; the guys are just excited that a hot drunk chick in a bra is giving them EasyMac.

Then the roommate starts to do some critical thinking. Damn her. "Wait, where is your shirt? In your bed? OK, let me get it for you." Everyone watches as the roommate moves the bedding, revealing me with my pants undone. The guys go apeshit, and, as much as it sucked, I can't blame them. The roommate is PISSED that this was all happening right above her head.

Finally, things settle down, the dudes leave (after giving me some awkward high-fives), and the roommate lies down, silently fuming. My girl climbs back up and we tentatively start making out again (hey, it was Freshman year!), but every time we moved or made a sound, the roommate would pipe up "Shut the Fuck up!" Suffice it to say, we pass out, say an awkward goodbye the next morning, and I never get another shot.


But did you get any EasyMac? Because that stuff is quite tasty if you're drunk enough.


After college I went on a backpacking trip through Europe. Long story short, I spent three days in Athens with a horrible case of the shits. I'm talking wet, nasty shits every hour or for the entire time. I'm not sure where they came from: The travel bug? Turkish food? Greek food? All of the above? I have no idea.

On my last night there, I went up to the roof of the hostel that I was staying in where they had a little bar and a really great view to try and do a little bit of socializing. I drank a beer or two and spent the night talking to kids from 5 or 6 different countries - one the best experiences of my life. One of them was a cute American girl who seemed to take a bit of interest in me despite the fact that I literally was running into the bathroom every thirty minutes and could barely keep my beer down. I told her I had been sick, but not what I was sick with. Maybe she thought I had small bladder or a large cocaine problem. I don't know, but she didn't get the drift.

Now, despite the fact that hooking up with girls is one of the three things you expect to do on a trip like this (along with drinking and seeing some churches), and despite the fact that I was (and still am) as far from a ladies man as it gets, I still had to give up the chance of getting some. I just wasn't feeling it. I said goodbye, we exchanged email addresses, and I went back to my bed.

An hour later I'm woken up by this girl, dunk and horny, climbing into my twin size hostel bed in a room with ten other strangers. Remember - this shit doesn't happen to me. Ever. I try my best to stay with it, we fool around a bit, and then it hits me. The shit, that is. It's basically leaking out enough to leave skid marks. It was the toughest decision I've ever made, but I had to kick her out of bed and run into a public shared bathroom with a boner and the shits.


But a game effort. You should keep your chin up, all things considered.


My high school girlfriend and I had been talking about trying anal sex for weeks. When I say my girlfriend and I were talking about it what I mean was I was desperately trying to convince her to attempt said sex. Well, she finally consented. One school night I am at her place and we have had a few drinks so she's horny and of course I think it's the perfect time to commence said plan. We started having regular plain old sex doggy-style and in the moment I convince her to let me try it.

I ease it in, she winces, things are going ok. I am picking up steam and thinking this is the coolest thing ever. I guess we didn't hear her Dad pull into the driveway and come into the house. Well, he walks in on us. Now, what is every man's first reaction in that situation? Mine, of course was to pull out, and try to grab something to cover my junk. Guess, what a girls first instinctual reaction is? To clench. She clenched her asshole simultaneously as I pulled out, thus I accidentally gave her a pink sock.

I didn't know what to do. She was in so much pain. She was crying, there was blood. I just stood there and watched as she cried and yelled "I need to go to the hospital!" Her Dad gave me this look that was a combination of disgust, rage, and get the fuck out of here now. I muttered something about how I would call her to see if she was ok and then left. I never saw her again. I am not proud of this story. It's horrible. Assholes should not ever look like that.


Speaking of assholes exploding…

Earl of Weaver:

Women much like Susan Sarandon's Annie Savoy character in "Bull Durham" exist, insofar that they're cougars on the prowl for young baseball players, at least. During a summer league down south a few years back, my buddy was at a bar when he encountered one such woman. She was eying him from the bar and so, upon the encouragement of some of his teammates (who knew what he was in for but felt it wiser that he find out for himself), he played the game of drink buying and small talk until they withdrew back to her place.

Things were pretty standard to start off: they popped open another round of drinks, started making out and then some clothes came off. She told him to sit tight in the living room while she ran into the bedroom to get ready. At this point he was pretty excited to see what came next. After a couple minutes, she opened the door and beckoned him to come join her. Imagine his surprise, then, upon seeing a chair with a tarp spread out underneath on the floor.

Here's where the anal beads come into play. She has him sit down and tells him, while swinging around a string of anal beads, that she's going to very slowly insert the anal beads while she goes down on him. Naturally my buddy is a wee bit nervous at the idea, but he's had enough liquid courage to shrug his shoulders and give the go-ahead. So she starts doing her thing from both ends, making sure to mention just before she begins that he has to tell her when he's about to blow his load.

And this is where the tarp comes in. She's blowing and slowly inserting and my buddy, for the most part, is thoroughly enjoying the experience. The beads aren't doing much but she's a consummate professional in the sloppy yawn department. A few minutes in and he's about to go Ol' Faithful. And right as he does, he tells her. And right as he tells her, she yanks out the beads. And right as she yanks out the beads, he blows two loads: one from the front and one from the back. Hence the tarp.

To this day he swears he's never had such a brain-exploding orgasm as that night. But that didn't change the fact that he had just shat all over this woman's bedroom floor, tarp-covered or not. She obviously didn't mind, but he was too embarrassed after that. I still give him shit for it (figuratively) because my argument is if that's how the first performance went, imagine what she'd have in store for an encore.


Well, I assume baseballs on some kind of string. Hey, how about a story for the gays?


OK, so I meet this guy online and we agree to meet at a local gay bar. We've been talking for awhile, he's Mexican, in his mid-20's, kinda short and while he's not really my type he's cute enough and seems like a cool guy. So we have some drinks and hang out for awhile and he suggests we go back to his place. I'm like ok, so we go back to his apartment, where it turns out he lives with his Grandma, who's lounging on the couch in the family room in her robe watching TV. Well if you know anything about Mexican Grandmas (I had 2), they are a notoriously tough bunch, and as soon as I walk in the apartment she gives me the evil eye. I know that eye well. The guy tells Granny to go to her room and she does, but not before giving me a scowl and that evil eye once again.

I excuse myself to go take a piss and when I turn on the bathroom light roaches scatter. That bathroom was so fucking nasty. I put the seat up w/ my foot and piss, then get the hell out of there and back to the family room. The guy doesn't have a room of his own so he has rolled out the sofa bed and we lay down. We start to make out and I notice his hygiene isn't all great, which I can understand a little cuz it was 100 degrees that day and that night was fucking hot too, but, shit, homeboy stunk.

But I'm drunk and horny so I go along with it. So we are making out, clothes start to come off and he's fully erect, but it's taking me awhile to get there cuz I'm a lil grossed out by the roaches and hygiene, but I finally get hard and grab my bag to get a condom when I hear a noise in the hallway. OMG I thought, Grandma is watching us.

I grab the sheet and cover myself and tell him to go check the hallway. He does, and no one is there, but I'm positive it was a door I heard. Anyways, when he comes back to the sofabed, I am no longer erect. The Grandma in the hallway, imagined or not, was the third strike after the roaches and hygiene, and my dick is limp as fuck.

He tries sucking on it and playing with it for awhile, but nothing. It won't budge. He asks, "Is it me?" I'm like, of course not, it must be all the booze I had, uh, yeah, that's it, the booze. So that was that. He tells me let's just go to sleep. I want to leave but I'm still too buzzed to drive, so I pretend I'm asleep for about 4 hours, holding in my pee and listening for Grandma in the hallway. I snuck out at about 5:30 in the morning, humiliated and hungover and never heard from the guy again.


But no anal beads?

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