What NOT to do whilst hooking up: One girls tale of woe

(Today we have a guest blogger who I have known since college and am grateful to be in the same city with her once again. When we hang out, magic happens. By magic I mean we lose what little dignity we had somewhere in DuPont Circle. Below you will find a recap of her not-so-good judgement calls...Enjoy!)


First let me shout out a big old THANK YOU to L for letting me write a guest spot entry to share my hook up misfortune with you lovely readers… So to preface my incessant awkwardness and horrible luck with hooking up let me just share a short explanation of one of my all time fav stories, I’ll try to be as brief as possible so we can focus on this past weekend’s activities…but I feel this story is imperative to share to begin to understand the brilliance in this girl’s mind.
Rewind about 9 months ago to Homecoming…for the past 4 years every time I’ve gone back I’ve always stayed with my best bff from college with whom I’ve always had a purely platonic relationship. Naturally as we all know that only lasts so long…blah blah blah, we eventually hooked up and things (shockingly) got awkward with us. So anyhow, I still had plans to stay with him during Homecoming but he was out of town so I convinced him to let me stay there without him. I proceed to get absolutely shite-canned by myself as a way to pregame before meeting all my friends out. In this “pre-gaming by myself” time I come up with the brilliant plan to bring a rando back to his apt out of spite..(passive aggressive much?).
So there I am…at the local watering hole getting far more wasted than anyone needs to be, find myself a lucky champ and decide to bring him back to the apt. After we practically teleported from the bar to the apt we were just hanging out (read: making out) and abruptly I decide that it is imperative that I need to go out to my car and get chap stick… Why right at the moment I probably will never know. Yada yada, I tell guy that I have rock star parking outside and we go outside…Now here’s where it actually gets good… So we try to go back to the apt and this genius has locked herself out of the apartment…with nothing on my person but my $7 dress, my car keys, the infamous chap stick and my friend’s university ID. Yes, I know I’m amazing.
Luckily guy had a hotel downtown so that worked perfectly. The following morning was spent begging and pleading to University Police and Property Management to let me back into the building that I did not reside. That was a treat. Finally out of sheer pity for the drunk ass girl they decided to help me out. I got back to the apt with guy in tow and was promptly let in. An hour later bff called to tell me that the police had called him to explain and he had to cut the police off to say that I was his fiancée…so not the truth. Esp since this classy one was obvi doing a walk of shame with a rando right in front of the cops. Yes, I do realize that I have a one way ticket to hell…Sue me. /End scene.
That story just explains my luck in this department…moving forward to this past weekend. Once again in my brilliance I decided to drink every type of alcohol known to man in some type of gamble with my liver. I started off with 4 vodka jello shots, then a couple glasses of white wine with my girl S, followed by some double Captn and cokes, threw in a beer or 2 and then topped it all off with some red wine. How I didn’t need my stomach pumped is also beyond me. End up dancing (read: making out) with some guy at the bar and having a grand ole’ time. We decide to call it a night and head over to S’s apt with a guy she was dancing with. Turns out my guy is straight up Brazilian and doesn’t speak a lick of proper English. Of course. Talking in Spanish was the only way to talk to him.
We cabbed it back (read: made out) and finally come up to my apt. We do our thing and in the middle of it this girl, this classy classy girl, falls off her own bed. Guy jumped off the bed and in his broken English, bless his heart, asked if I was ok. I think out of utter embarrassment and drunkenness I said I was fine and we continued on with our night. I will never be the first to admit I make great decisions whilst drunk. The following morning feeling like death I come to the realization that guy is still there and I have completely lost all my dignity. Operation Get Guy Out had gone into effect. Of course having a pounding hangover headache was not conducive to my planning efforts. Instead of lying and saying that I had plans for the morning, I casually SOS texted a close friend of mine asking if she could call me in a bit to say she had to meet me since guy refused to leave. She called, I ran to answer the phone and I loudly exclaimed how much I would love to go to brunch with her. Guy was ready and dressed by this point and I let out a huge sigh of relief. I awkwardly asked him if he needed a cab, and he could only respond saying yes. Lovely. I pointed him in the direction and ran back to my apt and lay on my couch in the fetal position re-evaluating my life decisions.
The best slash the worst part was a few hours later whilst I was trying to rally to go to my friend’s pool and I noticed that courtesy of my fall I have a one foot long scratch all the way down my back from hitting my computer desk on the way down. I imagine it will scar and it will constantly be a reminder of the legendary night that I mixed all the drinks and fell off my very own bed doing the nasty with a Brazilian who doesn’t speak English. I would like to contend that it’s stories like this that is the reason that L and I have remained friends. Judgment is 100% accepted.

Peace out-

And there we have it. I have commissioned S to guest spot once every couple weeks to keep us posted on her shananegians, because I don't doubt that she will keep making poor/questionable/ridiculous judgement calls simply for our entertainment. We are currently in the process of coordinating a bar golf outing, various themed parties and a practice Thanksgiving, all of which I will keep you updated on.

LOVE!