Hotel Sex, Threesomes, And Lost iPhone Xs: The Worst Stories From The Weekend

======= ======= ====== ====== ====== ===== ==== ====== ====== ===== ==== ======= ======= ====== ====== ====== ===== ==== ====== ====== ===== ====

I’m currently writing this to you from a bed in New Orleans where I’ve been since New Year’s Eve. This city will eat you up and spit you out if you’re not careful. And it’s safe to say that I haven’t been careful. I needed these stories more than you know.

As always, we break some of the following stories down on Touching Base (subscribe on iTunes and SoundCloud). All the episodes can be found below. Proceed with caution.

Alright, let’s get into this weekend’s crop of stories which can be found unedited in quotes below.

So I will start by saying… saying I’m a post grad is a bit of a stretch. I’m a 31 year old married mom…. who partied her ass off with her (now) husband up until 2 years ago when I got pregnant. Due to our change in circumstances we’ve behaved mostly like adults the last few years.

Except last weekend. Our toddler was with her grandparents for the weekend. We had a room in Denver, about an hour from our town.

Evening started out with hotel room sex (which paused when an employee walked into our room after a short courtesy knock). We then went out for pre dinner drinks then went to a nice dinner, split a bottle of wine. Felt pleasantly buzzed at this point but we weren’t about to quit while we were ahead. Went bar hopping after, were having a fabulous time. It felt like when we were first dating and got drunk together most nights of he week. Things get a bit fuzzy after I insisted we do shots at one of the last bars. I remember stumbling along telling my husband how I hate that he lived in Denver with one of his ex’s…( years and years ago as he’s older than me) and just bringing out my psycho. Go back to the hotel bar where he decides to buy us Jameson’s. Safe to say that’s where I blackout. Wake up the next morning around six and stumble to the bathroom still drunk. There is glass all over and a big dent in the bathroom door. Certain memories come back enough for me to realize this is 100% my doing.

Crawl back into bed to apologize and get the full story. Which is essentially that once we got to the room the only words I could remember was “fuck you, you piece of shit” which I yelled until my poor better half retreated into the bathroom hoping I’d just pass out. No such luck, apparently I banged on the door then when that didn’t work through what remained of his beer along with the glass at the door. Said glass shattered everywhere. Awesome. Glad no one called security on us… and glad somehow he forgave me within about twenty minutes. Sunday scaries are no joke when picking up your toddler and waiting to see how m uh the hotel chooses to charge my dumbass. Glad I bought a hotel door with my holiday bonus

As someone who just turned 31 today, I can fully say that you don’t exactly get more responsible the deeper you go into your thirties. But yeah, you definitely kind of brought out your psycho considering this dude has married you.

Well, Will I graduated last Saturday and had a weekend that almost tops all of my undergrad career-almost. Thursday was my last day of student responsibilities, so of course I went to the bar to celebrate with some trashcans and rails (on an empty stomach because I’m trash) Halfway through my second can, and some mixed drinks thrown in, I stand up and one of my acquanitances (who I was also trying to go home with that night) more or less has to catch me.

From that point (around 10:30) to about half past midnight, is forever lost to me. I only know I made it to the next bar from looking at my friendd’s snap stories- which are also embarrassing- and because I come to offering another friend to buy his beer at the second bar. After that is gone again to about 1:45 when I look up to see that all of my friends had already left the bar, the guy I wanted to leave with was giving me a weird look so I must have been annoying (read my messages the next morning, I was) so I stumble home and pass out until noon, wake up to a call from a job I applied for to come in for an interview next week, and realized I still havent packed my apartment to move back to my parents house. Get a friend to drive me to an urgent care to get a TB test (future teacher perks) because I’m still drunk, and nearly vomit on the way. I was drunk until about 3 that afternoon and stay in that night.

Saturday I graduate and get lunch with my family, but start with a margarita and a shot of fireball from my brother, nap and then go out for rails again, with my old roommate and some of her friends. We leave that bar, decide its too late to pay the cover at the second bar and go to the apartment of one of the guys in the groups, where we drink more fireball and bottom shelf liquor and play games to about 3:30. We’re leaving and I get asked if I would want to have a threesome with two of the guys (one I already slept with previously) and I say yes. The other guy (also has whiskey dick) has this crazy ex (I know her) who keeps texting and calling him all night and into the morning. After that, we’re walking back to his room and she facetimes him and sees me so that ends up with more calls. Leave his place around 6, finish packing and pass out for an hour, get coffee, do some facebook creeping and find out he has a girlfriend. Thank God I’m leaving that town for a while. Now to get a job.

Well the threesome definitely came out of nowhere, didn’t it? I’d say congratulations on graduating, but I’m not entirely sure you should be shaping young minds given the decisions you made this past weekend.

So this story actually took place a year ago, at my best friend’s company Christmas party. The reason I didn’t submit it then – well you’ll find out later.

My friend (let’s call him John) is a vice-president for a small, local events company with a penchant for drinking and a budget big enough to book rooms at a nearby hotel for employees and guests. He has worked there for as long as I’ve known him, so I have grown close with some of his coworkers. Until that night, however, the relations were purely platonic. I convinced him to take me as his “guest” and promised I would behave myself. After all, what could go wrong?

After slamming tequila shots for a couple hours, we headed to dinner at a semi-formal hotel venue where it was expected to hold your own. I was the only non-employee to give a speech, something about how you all are family to me and I’m so thankful for the opportunity to be here. I thought it was sincere and sentimental, but who really knows.

We headed out to the bars, and got considerably inebriated. I met this nice young lady (lets call her Emma, because that’s her name) who works out of their remote office, but hoped to get promoted to headquarters (by John mind you) after running a few successful events by herself. I don’t remember much after that, but I did catch her saying she has a flight at 6am to go run a very important event. Not very responsible if you ask me.

Fast forward 6 hours. I wake up completely naked, by myself, still drunk, in a hotel room that’s not mine. After loosely piecing together where I am, I get my clothes and try to find my friend. Somehow, I remember John’s room number, and before I could open the door, he grabs me and pulls me inside. “Where is Emma??” He was on the phone with a coworker and yelling way too loud for my hungover state. “I don’t know, she said she had a flight this morning, so I figured she left. She wasn’t in the room with me.”

I leave, taking no responsibility for the location of Emma. I didn’t have her phone number, and she definitely was not in the room. Did I kill her???

I’m laying on my couch around 11am, with Sunday Scaries that I thought couldn’t get any worse, when I get a call from John.

“Emma is in the hospital.” Oh god I killed her.

Apparently Emma woke up late, realized she had overslept, and ran to the airport with a dead phone and none of her stuff, leading people on a literal manhunt around the hotel to try to find this girl.

When she finally got on her flight, she was so panicked and hungover that she started throwing up, they had to reroute the plane, and she ended up in the ER from throwing up so much (is that even possible)? To add insult to injury, she got fired as soon as she made it out of the hospital. So much for that promotion.

After questioning my life decisions leading up to that point, I realized I needed to call this girl. I knew some things happened, and I knew I didn’t use other things. Well, the reason I didn’t post this last year was to make sure I wasn’t a father. Sure enough, September passed, and no call yet. Suffice it to say I did NOT get invited to the Christmas party this year.

Oh, Emma. Ohhhhhhhhhh, Emma. There are Sunday Scaries, and then there’s having to reroute a plane because you’re puking too much. Can’t fathom what the rest of the people on the flight felt like during this shitshow.

I somehow managed to not do anything too crazy since being home for the holidays, but I can’t say the same for my ex. After hearing through a mutual friend that a bunch of us were at the bars, my ex sent a text to my friend saying he wanted to come meet up with us so he could flirt with me… eww. Weird. So he showed up already pretty drunk and followed us to the next bar we went to. He slipped and fell on the sidewalk on the way there and then a few minutes later he fell down an entire flight of stairs going into this basement bar. He then fell asleep sitting up at a table and the bouncers came to kick him out. As he was being escorted out he proceeded to throw up on himself and the floor of the bar. Somehow he still thought it was a good idea to text me after he left although I have no idea what he was trying to say because it was incoherent gibberish (screenshot attached). Safe to say that this ex will stay an ex.

This guy was TANKED. The texts are below:

“jsioidrd,” indeed.

I dare anyone to try to top the scaries on this one.

I’m traveling solo through Japan and met some navy pilots stationed in Okinawa. Woke up Sunday having lost my jacket that contained my iPhone X and of all things to lose, my fucking passport. Not a good day for me to say the least. Send help.

Have fun spending the rest of your life in Japan, bud. I hear it’s beautiful this time of year.

So, the holiday break officially kicked off for me on Wednesday, the night of December 20th. My band had a gig that night and since I had a “use it or lose it” personal day, I took the 21st off. Got after it with my band and some friends. Got into an argument with an entrepreneur at a bar (he DJ’s karaoke and his card got declined when closing out). Was pretty, pretty hungover the next day, took two naps.

Laid low Thursday night, but definitely didn’t fully recover from Wednesday before going out again on Friday the 22nd (company-wide day off). Meet up with some friends from high school and start getting housed. Was supposed to meet up with some Hinge dates but they no showed. Played it chill Saturday trying my best to rehydrate. No-show hinge girl from the night before hits me up at 10:45p to see if I wanted “go out for a bit” which seemed pretty clear cut what she was looking for. I reluctantly go out to meet up with this girl, she had just moved into a new apartment walking distance from a bar scene.

It’s a one bedroom apartment, and she has a roommate. The roommate has the room, she has the living room with a curtain for privacy. There’s a folding chair as the only piece of furniture. This girl’s life is basically a trainwreck and then I learn she’s been divorced recently. She’s 24, for reference. We pregame a bit at her place, walk to a bar for a couple beers, head back to her place and then hookup on her “bed.” Why the quotes you ask? She sleeps on an air mattress, Will. A twin-sized air mattress. She has texted and snapped me non-stop since then. Tried to hit me up on Christmas day, even. Anyways, I leave her place at 4am because I didn’t trust the integrity of her lodging situation. In hindsight, lots of red flags with this one, including the number of typos in her texts.

Christmas Eve my parents host a banger of a party that I have to help prep for as well as drink copious amounts of alcohol at. With only one day of rest in the last 4 days, I’m running on fumes. Party is lit, up until 1am or so. Still drunk for presents the next morning #ShampooMimosas. Nap to The Santa Claus later in the day, had half a glass of wine at dinner that night because I couldn’t stomach any more booze. As Christmas night winds down, my throat starts to feel…uncomfortable. 24 hours later, positive strep test. Luckily our whole company has “work from home” privileges this week so I can still pretend I’m worth something to my boss from my couch in the same sweatpants I’ve had on since Monday night.

Antibiotics I’m prescribed are for 10 days. So I’ll be on penicillin the entire time I’m in Cancun for this family vacation. Luckily this doesn’t react negatively with alcohol, so I’m still good to booze. Unluckily, my immune system will be twice as compromised when I come back to work on the 8th and will likely have to take another sick day. I’ll check back in on Sunday, January 7, 2018 and let you know how high my scaries are or if I even stil lhave my cabeza.

This girl is 1,000% going to murder you if you keep talking to her. Sleeping on an air mattress is one thing, but having your only other furniture be a folding chair is downright serial killer.

I’ve been reading these articles for a while and never thought I’d be submitting a story of my own. But here we are.

It’s Christmas weekend, and I knew going into it that it was probably going to be a shit show. It all started on Friday.

Get off work, and had just received a $100 visa gift card from my boss. So of course I go to the liquor store and spend $60 on alcohol to stock up for the weekend. I hadn’t made any plans with anyone for the evening, so I was just going to drink one of my many bottles of Cabernet I bought and chill on my couch. Right?

Wrong.

A friend texted me to go out, so we round up a crew and hit a local bar that does karaoke every Friday. Fun fact: the Uber that picked us up is a guy that volunteers at a bunch of my work events throughout the summer. So I’m chatting it up with him for our 7 min car ride. We finally get there, and I proceed to hug him, which was my first regret of the evening. We get inside and I buy a round of Vegas bombs (which happened to be the worst bombs I’ve ever had, but I was already feeling it so I didn’t care). That was the second regret of the evening.

So we’re chilling and listening to some karaoke and bam. I blackout. The next thing I remember is hugging the toilet in my bathroom. However I was told I fell out of my chair while at the bar and that’s when everyone decided it was a good time to head home. All my friends are cooking my food from my freezer and my boy toy (who I’ve only been “seeing” for about a month and half) finally shows up and is like wtf is happening right now. He manages to get my drunk ass changed and into bed and kicks all my friends out. My hangover Saturday morning kept me in bed until about 1pm, as I viewed snap stories of the night before and regret every life decision I’ve made. Decide to suck it up and run some errands. Also got jack in the box tacos to help nurse my sorrows away.

Later Saturday I met up with some friends to watch the Mizzou game. Evening goes great so we all decide to continue the night at a local bar. And of course who do I run into? My ex boyfriend. By the way, haven’t seen him since we ended things almost a year ago. Thought it was going to be super weird, but it was surprisingly not weird and we chatted for a bit. But my boy toy was the one that got super weird. Kept asking if I was okay and if we needed to leave. He was hovering around me all night and it got to the point when I was like fuck this. Tried to avoid him the rest of the night but he insisted that he stay the night at my place since he lived 30 min away and I only lived 10.

We finally get back to my place and I immediately go to bed. Don’t want to deal with his bullshit. Woke up Sunday with a moderate hangover, that would be later cured by a homemade Bloody Mary from Mom, and headed home for Christmas. Thought the rest of my holiday weekend was going to be nice, with a steady buzz throughout. But no. This story ends with boy toy texting me asking me to come to his family Christmas and to spend the following weekend with other family that will be in town.

I think it’s time to cut ties…

If I had a dollar for every time I thought I could just drink cabernet and chill on my couch only for my life to spiral for an entire weekend, I’d have, like, $16.

I did it again. “What did you do,” you may ask. Well, Billy, for the past few years I’ve had this fun little tradition of blacking out before midnight on NYE and missing the turn of the new year. In the weeks leading up to last night I’ve been foolishly telling my friends that this year would be different. I told them I would “take it easy” and just enjoy the evening. Naive. Arrogant. Stupid. Call me what you will. I was wrong.

I should have known the kind of night I was in for when I managed to drop my bottle of Avion in the street on the way to the pregame, shattering the bottle and my dreams of getting “Avion One for 1/1” into a million pieces. Unfortunately, being a godless man, I could not see the warning that the heavens were sending me, so I persisted. I managed to turn my body into a walking concoction of tequila soda, cheap champagne, and Bud Light in a very short period of time. You may be saying to yourself: “Come on my king. You’re not about to tell me that you managed to blackout after just an hour and a half of pregame. That’s just ridiculous.” I am, and it’s not. I should mention that before the 7pm pregame I only consumed one solid meal, a protein shake, and 500mg of caffeine. That meal was at noon. Commence black.

My knowledge of the rest of the evening comes from intermittent returns to this plane of existence and Snapchat stories. Before we left for the NYE party downtown, apparently I decided to call my ex-gf and her family of Italian heritage “wops.” To her face. (I just finished the new season of Peaky Blinders.) I don’t remember the Uber ride over, but apparently I proceeded to further display my Blinders fandom by exclusively talking in a British accent and repeatedly quoting Alfie Solomons’ dialogue about circumcision because I was sitting next to my friend who happens to be Jewish. I continued to yell in a British accent as we walked down the freezing streets of Richmond to a 90’s theme party while wearing only Chubbies and a vintage polo from Dad’s closet featuring a golfing Tigger. I briefly returned to consciousness.

After arriving at the party, I immediately evacuated my stomach in the bathroom. Loudly and forcefully. I managed to find myself in a restricted area of the building for staff only, and was kindly directed by security to return to the party. I somehow found my friends, and I returned to the darkness. For the next hour and a half I danced mindlessly to a 90s cover band while staring at the floor in order to have a stationary point of reference. Then, in a brief sign of intelligent life, I decided that I was far too drunk to be in public, so I called an Uber to take me back to the pregame apartment. I laid down at 11:15pm, and spent the turn of the calendar sleeping on a futon couch.

The rest of my group went on to have a lovely time at the 90s party, and they even went to a second party after midnight, which took place in a privately owned airport hangar. There was an open bar, free pizza, no cover, and strippers. After they returned around 2:30am I awoke and incoherently yelled, still in a British accent, until I was able to ward off the blackness and semi-control myself. The only reason I’m awake/alive right now to tell you all of this is because I had to drive my friend back to his house at 8:30am so he could go to work later this morning. I’ll be spending the rest of today eating, hydrating, and engulfing myself in the tactile comfort of multiple blankets while I watch the bowl games.

I’d love to tell you that this led me to make serious life changes or to revaluate my relationship with alcohol, but I’m a realist and I know that no matter what year is on my tax forms I’m still a degenerate masquerading as a functioning human. Here’s to 2018. See you in church.

You need Jesus. Or maybe just a little time to think about all the horrible things you’ve done. Or some medical attention because it sounds like your body needs it.

Hope you and the Touching Base boys had a good New Years.

I spent New Years Eve in with friends and more alcohol than we knew what to do with.

Casual beers quickly changed to a game of tit ball. If you haven’t played, it’s beer pong and flip cup combined into one glorious game.

After the first round I wasn’t feeling too hot. Just absolutely sick to my stomach. I only had maybe two or three beers and realized it must have been the Chinese food from dinner. I convinced myself that maybe if I threw up I’d feel better. Then tried to get myself to throw up, unsuccessfully.

I then returned to the party and claimed since my first attempts were futile, that the only thing that would help me in my quest to vomit would be some tequila. So I grabbed a bottle of 1800 gold and headed back to the restroom. The only problem is that I like tequila, so the first two shots didn’t do a thing. It wasn’t until shot 3 and 4 I was successful in throwing up. Oh yeah this was at 8:45 PM…

After that I stuck to water and returned to the party around 10:30 one of my friends was absolutely trashed. Post grad life has taken a toll on us and we are now realizing we cannot drink like we used to. I then end up helping her. She throws up twice. I continue to give her water help her settle in for the night.

While disposing of the garbage I run into another girl and she’s crying because of a fight with her boyfriend. As I’m consoling her, someone yells for me to help the first girl.

I go back up to the apartment and she’s throwing up again. When the clock strikes midnight I find myself stone cold sober and still babysitting my drunk friend.

New Year’s Day brought on a disgraceful Outback Bowl loss for my Michigan wolverines. Monday scaries are at an all time high as we’re making the slow 2 1/2 hour drive home. Thank god I don’t have to work until Wednesday.

Taking today off to lick your wounds was the move, king. Today is likely the worst day of the year to be in the office, so my thoughts are with everyone who is sitting at their desk with the remnants of a two-day hangover. It will get better. At least it will until this weekend when we do it all over again.

Here’s to 2018. .

41

Respond

Email this to a friend

Hey, I saw this on Post Grad Problems. Check it out.

Will

Will (Twitter / Instagram) is the host of The Sunday Scaries Podcast.

• @willdefries
• @willdefries
• defriewf
• will@grandex.co