If you’ve got a hookup horror story, send it in using our submission form, and be sure to select “Column.” All stories will be made anonymous. Try to keep it under 500 words. Thou shalt not judge lest ye be judged.
“Troy” from San Francisco, CA
I went to a “Friendsgiving” party at a friend of a friend’s house last week. It was a big party with my extended group of friends at this chick’s rather large apartment in downtown San Francisco. She worked for Google or Apple or something, so she was loaded and had a gigantic spread in downtown SF.
Am I a male gold digger? No, but I would have no problem with marrying into society’s upper crust. So I decided to turn on the charm and try to make this rich, successful, above average looking woman fall in love with me that night. It was a Hail Mary, but almost all things worth doing require some measure of desperation.
Sure enough, I succeeded. I worked on her for hours all night and it turns out she was actually a really interesting person. She did in fact work for Google and she was in fact rich as balls, just as I had suspected. I spent the rest of the night helping her clean up and stuck around after most of the people had left to go to the bars. My superior dishwashing skills must have overwhelmed her, carnally. I wish I could go back in time to tell my 10-year-old self to stop complaining about doing the dishes all the time and thank my mother for indirectly teaching me such an awesome seduction technique.
A couple bottles of wine later, we were on the couch, making out and then, oops, our clothes came off. We did it all over her apartment. We then made our way to the folding table that still had some food on it. Folding tables aren’t the most sturdy things in the world, so as it figures, right as we started going at it on the table, it collapsed, sending side dishes everywhere and us tumbling to the ground. My head cracked on the ground and I’m pretty sure I got concussed, considering I have had headaches all week and almost crashed my car into a tree the next day, but I think that was just because I was still drunk. To her credit, she ended up taking care of me that night and we finished the deed the next morning.
I’ve laughed about it at least once a day for the past week.
“Derek” from Dallas, TX
My girlfriend and I were driving to a wedding in Oklahoma City, and naturally, boredom got the best of us on the highway. We had left after work on Thursday because we wanted to spend Friday in OKC, shopping and the like.
As the sun went down, the highway was completely empty. I mean nothing. I had never seen I-35 so dead. My girlfriend, a total sweetheart (she was the one who suggested I submit this story to PGP), began rubbing my leg and giving me eyes. This road trip was off to a great start. So she went down on me and I just enjoyed the sounds of the road, while admiring the top of my girlfriend’s head. Me, being a kind and generous lover, did not hesitate to try to return the favor, so I did the best I could to reciprocate with my free hand.
Logic said we should’ve pulled over and just gotten a motel or soiled the backseat of my Nissan Pathfinder, but there’s just something about sex while going 80mph on an empty highway that gets the adrenaline going.
After a few minutes, we were both into it. I wasn’t paying attention to the road and before I could even realize it, red and blue lights lit up the cabin of the car. Cops. Great, probably arrested in Southern Oklahoma for speeding and indecent exposure. So, the gf and I quickly made it look like nothing was going on before we had been pulled over.
Obviously, the first question out of the cop’s mouth was “You know how fast you were going?” I hadn’t been paying attention to my speed and let the officer know that I really didn’t know how fast I was going. It was like a scene straight out of Black Sheep.
“Son, you were going 47 miles per hour.”
Apparently, the cruise control had been turned off and I was just coasting at a cool 47mph on a major US highway while getting sucked on by my girlfriend. I guess you can never be too careful, though. At least that’s what I’ll keep telling myself.