======= ======= ====== ====== ====== ===== ==== ====== ====== ===== ==== ======= ======= ====== ====== ====== ===== ==== ====== ====== ===== ====
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 less than 500 words. Thou shalt not judge lest ye be judged.
Family Breakfast
“Corey” from Nashville, Tenn.
I was at a New Year’s Eve party a couple years ago. I was fairly intoxicated after drinking beer and champagne, and at the time, I thought starting a bottle of Seagram’s whiskey was a good idea. Also, I fully intended to black out. Besides, most people at the party were old friends from school.
At one point, I started talking to a young lady who, for lack of a better word, was not skinny. She was also quite scary looking: orange from too much tanning, makeup caked onto her face, bleached blonde hair. I guess this girl was hitting on me, and in my drunkenness, I decided it was a good idea to hook up with her. Since neither of us were at our homes, we did not have a solid place in which to do so. Naturally, we decided to go into the garage. We began to fool around on the hood of a car in the garage. After a good five minutes, the car alarm began to go off. I like to think it was because she was on the car, and quite large, but I don’t know for certain. When the rest of the party found us, it was quite embarrassing. To cope, I drank more whiskey. I proceeded to blackout.
The next morning, I woke up on a basement floor that was not my own, nor the house I had been at the night before. I soon realized it was my lady of the night’s house. She explained I had paid a stranger at the party $20 to drive us back to her house, $20 which I could’ve been spent much wiser elsewhere. I gathered my clothes and attempted to sneak up the stairs to leave when I realized this was her parents’ house–not hers. This was made all too clear when they invited me to stay for pancakes. After a few bad excuses, I gave up and sat down, eating pancakes and drinking coffee with this girl and her parents. Luckily, they did not mention the fact that I had (most likely) banged their daughter in their own basement. When I finished breakfast, I left, refusing a ride from the girl despite not knowing where I was. I walked aimlessly for an hour before discovering where I was, and it took me another hour to walk back to my house–in January, with no coat. Happy New Year?
Making a Mess
“Fred” from Alexandria, Va.
I was hooking up with girl for a while, and for the sake of this story, let’s call her “Stacy.” We never even pretended to be serious, and most of our interactions happened between the start of the pregame and after last call. It was actually kind of refreshing knowing we were both just using each other, not having to pretend otherwise.
Like most Thursdays, I started drinking with some friends and we all decided to head to the bars. Stacy and I ran game on each other via text for a while and eventually our respective friend groups arrived at the same bar around midnight. When I showed up she was talking to a guy I didn’t know, so I figured I’d let her do her thing. I shrugged it off and kept drinking until last call before I grabbed a cab. When I arrived home I saw the texts.
Stacy: 2:36 a.m.
Where are you?????
Come over
Me: 2:37 a.m.
At my apartment
Stacy: 2:37 a.m.
Come overtttt
Nowwwwwqa
Her: 2:49 a.m.
Come now?
I hopped back into another cab and got to her place around 3:00 a.m. I didn’t know what building she was in so she came down to let me in. In her drunken stupor, she grabbed her car keys and not her apartment keys and consequently locked us out. I did what any other 25-year-old would do in that situation; I called another cab and brought her back to my place.
By the time we got back to my apartment, it was nearly 4:00 a.m. We drunkenly hooked up (which I barely remember) and three hours later my alarm started going off. I knew immediately I was still drunk because I felt phenomenal. I took a quick shower, and as soon as I was out, she was dressed and ready to leave. She was acting kind of strange (which was weird, considering this wasn’t the first time we hooked up). I dropped her off and headed to my meeting in the city.
My meeting wrapped up around 8:30 a.m., so I went home to grab some stuff before heading into work. When I walked into my bedroom it hits me–the stinging stench of stale piss. I didn’t notice it when I woke up because I was so drunk, but when I looked on her side of the bed, I realize it was absolutely covered in piss. She didn’t casually piss the bed, she straight up went Niagara Falls on my sheets and didn’t mention a thing.
I ended up cleaning for a solid hour before I went into the office. I never brought it up to her and we hooked up a couple times again after that until the romance fizzled.
I always wondered what was going through her head on the ride back. Did she think I’d never notice? Was she hoping it would magically dry and the smell would dissipate? Did she assume I’d think I was the one who peed the bed?
Whatever she was thinking, I have to respect her for playing the “I just don’t give a shit” card, leaving me to clean up her mess.
Respond
Way to own, up to your mistake “Corey.” We all have our own swamp donkey stories.
“Most likely” should read “possibly.” If you were that blacked out it’s highly questionable whether or not you could accomplish doing the deed.
The biggest mistake “Corey” made is refusing the ride back to his place the next morning. There’s no way in hell I’m walking 2 hours in the dead of winter, without a coat, and knowing a killer hangover is on the way.