The summer of my 22nd year was one of my sluttiest summers.
My boyfriend and I were “on a break” so I was chugging Zimas pretty regularly and sucking face with just about anyone with a pulse.
My parents moved to a city where I didn’t know many people and I was home visiting when my sister got pretty sick and had to be in the hospital for about a week. I volunteered to spend the night with her one evening so my parents could go home and get some rest.
That afternoon, the ONE guy I knew in town called me up and asked if I wanted to go grab a few drinks at a local bar. “Do they sell Zima there?” I asked. Before he could say “I think so…” I was already planning out which ripped jean skirt I should wear with my new Express top. I told my parents I would “def” bring them some food and be back to the hospital early so they could go home.
Fast forward to 11 PM because I am too old now to remember what all bars and things we actually did that night. I stumble into the hospital room where my dad has been waiting and I am Zima trashed. Of course I brought my new guy friend up to the room with me, Dad. Hospitals are super dangerous and I needed an escort.
My sister was barely awake and doped up on pain meds so my dad reluctantly left me there with her and my new guy friend. I guess he supposed I couldn’t get myself into too much trouble in a hospital room.
The second he left I hit the lights and hopped on the one way express to make out town. Once I was sure my sister was back in pain pill sleep land I took that train straight to pound town. Right there on the roll away hospital bed next to my sister. As soon as it was over (which I remember it being pretty quick) I started to brown in and pulled the whole “this bed is really small and you need to not be in it anymore” card before I promptly assumed the starfish passed out position.
I guess the moral of this story is that you can be a slutty, terrible person at any age really. Especially if you have enough Zima.
**Name removed to protect the crazy.**
I met ****** on OkCupid. I never met him in real life (Thank God). I initially refused his request for my #, because he seemed a little off. But, I caved, and tried to be nice. This was the result. I have since blocked 2 of his phone #s, and 3 of his profiles on OkCupid. He continues to delete and create a new one. Obviously, he’s a total catch.
After a string of unsuccessful okcupid flings and a VERY long dry spell, I barely even batted an eye when I guy I had been texting with for a few weeks from Plenty of Fish sent me a text in the middle of the day that said, ‘I’m at Firestone in Bartlett, come get me.” “Sure,” I thought, “this seems like the perfect way to have our first date.” Seeing as I’ve suffered from various car troubles in my adulthood with no one but my FATHER to rely on, I felt it was my karmic duty to oblige, so I hopped in my whip and went to rescue my potential future husband.
I pulled into the Firestone and watched as a cute redneck with Justin Bieber hair wearing a camo jacket made his way over to my car. It had snowed the night before and he almost busted his ass on a patch of ice as he sauntered over but before I knew it he had settled into the passenger seat and we were exchanging an awkward “hello” hug.
We headed to Bubba’s (probably because he was hoping he’d run into his cousin he’d fucked there or something) and I had a few beers while I watched him devour a sandwich. He was pretty hammered (adorable) and needed a ride home to Olive Branch because his truck now needed to stay overnight at the car place.
At this point I figured I might as well try and squeeze a dry hump out of this and so I agreed to take him home. As soon as we walked into the living room to his mother sitting on the couch, I knew I had made a huge mistake. I spent 30 minutes squished up next to her watching The Mentalist while he scarfed down chicken (that’s right, his second meal in 2 hours). His mother asked him if he’d given me any gas money for picking him up and bringing him home and chicken flew out of his mouth as he hollered, “I BOUGHT HER TWO BUD LIGHTS, MOM!”
I’m falling in love. I can’t wait to spend Christmas with them just like this.
I was a little tipsy myself and in dire need of some Vitamin D(ick) so when he suggested we go watch a Thai movie in his room, I figured, why the fuck not. Before I knew it, we were rolling around his bed, dry humping away with the door open while his mom took in some DVR’d Dr. Oz episodes.
Eventually, he started to fall asleep and I began to accept the reality that my drunk Camo’d prince charming who lives with his mother might not be taking me to Pound Town or down the aisle, so I let him I know I was going to head home. He suddenly decided he was ready to get the show on the road and whipped out what looked like a Ballpoint pen but I guess some people would call it a penis.
I wasn’t really sure what to do with this. Do I play with it or should I roll it up in a crescent roll and pop it in the oven for a cocktail party? I’ve honestly seen toothpicks bigger than this guy’s dick.
I carefully pinched his little boner in between my thumb and pointer finger and gave him a few courtesy tugs. Then I quickly feigned tiredness and got the F out of there as fast as I could. I do hope his mother and him find a nice girl to watch The Mentalist with them one day.