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Great Moments In Horrible Sexual Faux Pas

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

Want proof you should never talk during sex? Heed these warnings…

Nate:

I'm in a lame psychology class perusing the landscape. It was only the second week, and the class was HUGE. I saw a girl I hadn't seen before, and she was looking right at me. We exchange the off glance now-and-again, but I'm too chicken shit to approach her.

About three weeks later, I'm at a party, and some sorority girls are there. I don't think much of it, except that about an hour into said party, the girl from my psych class nuzzles up to the "bar" right next to me. She was with the sorority (they were all wearing lame pink tee shirts), and clearly a few drinks into her night. She was cute, flirty, and came looking for ME. So, after we talk, she gives me the "So, were you checking me out in class a few weeks ago?", to which I reply "I check you out in class all the time".

Well, that gem worked, and about ten minutes later we're off to her room. The normal touchy-feely-smoochy stuff is going down, and we start getting naked. She's on top for a minute, and things are great...then she says "Do me from behind, I wanna cum." Like I'll turn that down. So, she hops off, gets on her knees on the bed, I start the slow descent into glory, when I see pictures of her family on her headboard. These fucking framed, lovely family portraits of all their happiest bullshit moments.

I happen to see this picture of her parents, and I lock eyes with her father. I start thinking about how funny it would be to say horrible things to him/the pic.

I often mutter or speak what I'm thinking while intoxicated. So while she's getting hers, I blurt out, "and you thought she went to college for the education!"

She darts her head to the side to look back and see what the fuck I'm talking about, and sees my lame ass talking to a picture of her father. She is, to say the least, disturbed by this. Before I had time to explain myself, my clothes were being tossed at me with the "you should go" heartbreaker line coming at me.

I never saw her again. She never showed up for class, and I didn't see her at any parties her sorority went to. Nobody said a word to me, or gave me weird looks. I'm hoping it was some kind of Tyler Durden moment, and she wasn't real, but my blue balls and constant teasing from my friends would suggest otherwise.

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Max:

A little preface to this story is that I'm a huge New York Giants fan. Anyways, early in my freshman year of college at a midsized liberal arts school I hooked up with this girl, we'll call her Amanda. I was kinda of a dick, because Amanda had been hooking up with one of my friends, and I met her through him. We started to talk, and one thing led to another, and we started hooking up, and she ended things with my friend. Now, as a freshman, I was obviously trying to get as much as possible, and although we were hooking up every few weeknights, we were far from exclusive. A few weeks into it, we hadn't had sex, but we had done almost everything else.

Anyways, one night we pre-gamed a frat together on some very cheap tequila and boxed wine, which is absolutely disgusting. We went to the party, and split up immediately upon arrival to look for some prospects. I saw her grinding with a few guys, and I was with a few girls myself. Party is busted around forty five minutes later, and we find each other, and end up in my room. We manage to get naked, and right as we're about to do it, she goes "I really want to date you. Do you want to make a commitment to me?" Which is a ridiculous question, since we had been trying to get some from different people only hours before.

So, in my drunken brilliance, I respond "I'm sorry, but the only thing I can commit to right now is New York Giants football."

A slap and slammed door later, I was alone, naked and throwing up the boxed wine. The girl ignores me every time I see her. The Giants haven't made it to the playoffs since. How's that for commitment?

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Impressive ad lib, though. Here's one that isn't quite so impressive:

NotShomit:

It's the beginning of my freshman year in college. I'm leaving an on-campus party. Meet Girl, walk Girl back to dorm, and immediately start making-out. Girl has a tongue ring. Because it had been really easy and natural to this point, and because there is a reason girls get tongue rings, I figured fooling around was a given. I suggest heading to her room, but she declines, and we just exchange numbers. No real loss - I'm willing to wait (especially for the tongue ring).

Two days later, we meet up in the student section at our football game. We'd both been drinking all day and soon began sloppily sucking face in front of 60,000 or so of our closest friends. The game ends, and we decide to "watch a movie" in my room immediately thereafter, as soon as she can get back to her dorm and change clothes. I make it back, she calls about twenty minutes later, and I sneak her up (my school apparently didn't want anyone to get laid and had strict after-hours dorm policies). I get her in the room without issue. The hard part's over. So far, so good.

As soon as she gets inside, we start going at it... like the scene from Fatal Attraction before Glenn Close starts boiling rabbits. We're knocking stuff off tables, tearing at clothes, groping and kissing our way over to the bed. At this point, I'm only in my underwear and she's topless (great rack), wearing only her jeans. Once we get to the bed, I throw her down and start kissing her neck, breasts, and stomach, eventually making it to her jeans. As I begin trying to undo the button, though, she stops me and pulls me back up to kiss her. I oblige momentarily, but then get right back to the jeans. She stops me again, we kiss, repeat. Needless to say, I'm getting pretty fucking frustrated.

"I have something I need to tell you."

I'm utterly oblivious. Despite her comment, I continue trying to smoothly remove her pants. At this point I'm too drunk and horny to want to talk about anything, and nothing short of her telling me she has a big, swinging dick holstered down there is going to shake my determination. She's resilient, though, and I am stopped once more... this time with authority. I'm thoroughly confused and exasperated.

"What is it?" I finally ask.

(long and uncomfortable pause)

"I was raped."

(incredibly awkward beat of silence)

"..."

"..."

"... well, I WISH SOMEBODY WOULD RAPE ME."

The moment it came out of my mouth, I regretted it, but the damage was done. I tried to play it off by saying something about a milf-ish neighbor at home and a porn scene, but she wasn't buying it. As you can probably imagine, she got her shit and lit out of there pretty quickly. We never spoke again.

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God, that's fantastically awful. It as if all other faux pas are now meaningless.

Chris:

I had just broken up with my girlfriend of a few months, and had already gone through the list of exes who were still willing to sleep with me, including the one I had just broken up with. Having exhausted the supply of sure things, I was led towards the closest thing: freshmen girls. So despite avoiding our fraternity parties for the first half of the year, I decided to venture downstairs, where I spied "Jenny".

I sling some really weak game and start making out with her behind the bar downstairs. After some making out and far more touching than was appropriate in the most heavily trafficked place in the fraternity house, I suggested we head upstairs, and she enthusiastically agreed. On the way up to the first floor she put her number in my phone. She explained that, as a matter of policy, she wouldn't go to bed until numbers were exchanged (or so she claimed). I told her I would put my number in her phone on the way up to the third floor, where my room was located. When we get out of the basement she said that she needed to use the bathroom and I told her I'd meet her back there in a minute. While waiting and checking out what remained of the party and one of my friends approached to me and asked "were you just hooking up with Jenny? Gross." Somehow, in my drunken state, I managed to heed this warning and I abandoning the party, as well as the sure thing waiting in line at the bathroom, and I trekked a mile across campus to smoke up with a friend of mine. As I walked into my friend's house, I got a call from my buddy still at the party who told me that Jenny was looking for me and that the door to my room upstairs was locked.

I replied that I had left and told him to break it to her gently. About two hits later, my phone rang, and I looked down to see that Jenny Gross was calling me. Jenny Gross. Her last name is Gross. I got cockblocked by her last name. She gave me some ultimatum about fucking if I was back in ten minutes, I considered going back, but by that point, the bong had won. So I guess I also cockblocked myself.

P.S. A couple years later I came back for alumni weekend or something, and Gross got hotter ... missed opportunities

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Drew (not me):

I was in my Junior year of college and it was the end of the semester and a few months after breaking up with my girlfriend of 2 years. I had planned a barcrawl with one of my classes. There were about 35 people in the class, and about 15 people came on the barcrawl, including a girl that I had a crush on.

We started off by pregaming at a friend's apartment and then headed to the bars. We all mingled and hung out and proceeded to get really hammered. One of my friend's from my fraternity was bartending at the third bar (and final bar) that we went to, and so he got us tons of free drinks. This girl and I left the bar together and went back to my fraternity. Clothes started coming off and I said that I had to go to the bathroom before we had sex.

I finished going to the bathroom and opened the stall door. At the same time that I opened the door, one of my friends came rushing into the bathroom. He was unable to make it to the stall and projectile vomited on me. Needless to say I had a hard time explaining why I had pieces of vomit on me and there was no way that she was going to sleep with me that night, even after I completely cleaned myself off.

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We call that move the Mister Brainwash.

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