The Morning After: The Booty-Call Bomber

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[Everyone’s got a morning-after story and we wanna hear yours! Send it over to us and we’ll post it – anonymously, of course – right here!]

My night began like most others: taking shots to the beat of some Lady Gaga song (gimme a break – it was last fall), followed by endless rounds of pong (and probably some trash talking about how I once made a behind-the-back shot). To say the least, my texting abilities slowly declined with each game, and soon my night went from “hey what’s good?” to “meet pu laterrrrrrr???”

Eventually, I was kicked off the pong table and headed out to meet up with my “friend,” Mark. We headed back to his room where his roommate (and one of my best friends), Jack, was apparently entertaining a girl. Mark informed me that we’d have to hang out for a bit before heading upstairs, so we sat outside and I relived my awesome beer pong shots while Mark rubbed my thigh. Soon enough, Jack came outside for his post-coital cigarette and started telling me about how he already prefaced my arrival by telling his girl about how great I am and how I’m his best friend how much I matter to him.

Amidst me rolling my eyes, the three of us walked into the room, where this girl was sitting in his bed, bright-eyed and bushy tailed (or should I say bushy hair-ed). We were all expecting her to leave, obviously, but instead she sat there and grilled me like Diane Sawyer.  It was all a blur, but I do recall her asking me approximately twenty thousand questions, from what my major is and where I lived on campus to what my social security number was.

She proceeded to talk so much and try to befriend me that I eventually just fell asleep sitting up on Mark’s bed, where he was already passed out next to me. All I could think about, even in my semi-conscious state, was how much she was ruining everyone’s night. I didn’t come over to befriend my best friend’s one-night-stand, I came over for my own selfish good time!

I was still angry when I woke up the next morning, fully clothed, so it was nice when Mark offered to drive me home. No sooner did we get ready to leave and get away from Jack’s trainwreck that she popped out of bed and asked for a ride, too. Being a good kid, Mark naturally agreed to drive the pain in the ass home. I started fuming, but found solace in the fact that we might get a few minutes of alone-time once we dropped her.

Now why in the world would I think that?

As I stepped out of Mark’s (hot) coupe to let her out of the back seat, she began a 5-minute speech insisting that she drive me home and to not make Mark go out of his way to drive me himself. Despite his insistance that it wasn’t a nuisance and my insistance that it was fine, she bugged us both to the point that I finally caved. Mark drove away and I followed her up the grimy stairs of her “bestie’s” apartment building to get her keys and shoes. But what could and should have been a 30-second errand turned into a 45 minute bitching session about how horrible my friend Jack is (Reminder: I was introduced as his best friend in the world) and how he’s so rude and inconsiderate and a liar and horrible.

Uh…what?!?!

I started frantically texting Mark about the most awkward situation of all time and he offered to come pick me up but I told him no, due to this girl’s constant promise to “leave in five.” When we FINALLY left and she dropped me off, she kept promising to keep in touch (why, I’ll never know). Thankfully, I didn’t hear from her again. That is until I walked into my favorite coffee shop to do some studying two months later and found her sitting at my table. I tried to sneak out but Crazy Eyes saw me, jumped up, hugged me and started chatting me up like we were long lost sisters (as opposed to two girls who happened to cross paths during a booty call)….

I interrupted her, told her I was late for class and booked it out of there. Then I called Jack and hold him that all future booty calls would have to be screened by me. It’s for his own good!

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