The Morning After: Summer Lovin’

By Anonymous

During my first few years of college, I spent my summers working at a resort.  It was good administrative experience and the night life was amazing.  Also, because I was well under 21, it helped that most of the bars didn’t card (and the bartenders were amenable to some flirtation and tipping in lieu of my ID).  My days were spent hanging out in an air conditioned office while my friends and coworkers slaved away in ridiculously hot restaurants and golf courses.  My nights were spent at aforementioned bars (and anywhere else there was alcohol).

It just so happened that my second summer of resort work commenced shortly before my 19th birthday.  This meant a weekend of awesomeness (especially because the tourist season hadn’t really started yet and we were all bored and ready to party).  My birthday started nicely enough, with trips to the ice cream store and a picnic on the beach with my friends.  Later that night we spruced up and headed out to the bar with my favorite bartender, where we all agreed we would be celebrating my 22nd birthday (we picked my 22nd because the summer before I was drinking in the bars and was considered at least 21…obvs).

My “22nd” birthday was definitely a success.  We had half the bar to ourselves and ordered massive amounts of drinks and food.  It was supremely enjoyable.  But then it started getting late and people started peacing out.  I wasn’t ready to leave yet, so I parked myself on a bar stool and had the bartender mix me random pink frothy things he made up on the spot (deeeelish).  It just so happened that a cute guy was sitting right next to me.  There was talking, laughing, drinking, and some concrete sexual signals flying back and forth between us.  When my last set of friends were leaving they asked if I was coming with and I decided to stay.  About five minutes after this decision, I started thinking that I didn’t want to be by myself in a bar with a strange guy, so I packed up and hijacked it out of there.

Instead of going home like I most definitely should have (especially looking back now….), I took my drunk ass on a stalking mission to find my ex-boyfriend.  Which ended up with me watching Top Gun with a bunch of German guys I’d never met in the same apartment complex he used to live in. Stalk fail.  After about an hour of my drunken attempts at German, I left. But keeping with the theme of the evening (bad decisions), I went back to the bars. And who should still be wandering the streets at this hour? The guy I met at my birthday celebration.  He was obviously excited to see me again and asked if I wanted to go to an after-party at his place.  Obviously another bad decision, but it was my birthday and I deserved at least four more drinks and some cake.  He promised me cake.

Well, I didn’t get any cake, but I did have sex.  Really embarrassing, awkward, loud sex.  As in he was loud and I was embarrassed and the whole thing was awkward because his bed was about six inches from his roommate’s bed (and his roommate was sleeping soundly when we stumbled in to his apartment).  He kept grinning maniacally and saying, “Happy Birthday, baby.”

Oh my… and he had seemed so normal at the bar!

The next morning, he had to work early so he jumped out of bed to get ready and assured me I could stay the whole day.  Seeing how his roommate would be there, too, and was probably very aware of my embarrassing hookup, I wanted to leave as soon as possible.  So, the walk of shame commenced and I comforted myself with the fact that I never had to see this guy again.  Or so I thought…

It turns out that when I got a new roommate halfway through the summer, she was dating that guy (who, thankfully, I hadn’t seen since my birthday).  And she had been dating him when he was wishing me a happy birthday naked.  Awesome.