The Morning After: Girl on Girl

By Anonymous

[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!]

It started off like any other football Saturday: beer pong and well-done burgers on my friend’s roof at 8am. Except unlike most Saturdays, I was dominating the beer pong table. By the time we had to leave for the game, I had 5 games, 7 beers and a hamburger bun under my belt. And I was drunk.

I stood on the bleachers with my friends, taking advantage of the over-crowded bench to stay upright. After the band finished and the game was about to start, I got a text from a very drunk girl friend of mine (who I had only met a few weeks before but had quickly become quite close with) who was sitting a few sections away.

“The bleachers are rocking.”
“I know,” I texted back. “I feel like I’m on a boat.”

I lasted about another 4 minutes before my friend told me she was leaving and I should just come and take a nap at her place. Being that it was much closer to the stadium than mine, I agreed.

We met up outside the gates and stumbled towards her house. We spotted a Jimmy John’s along the way and, hoping to soak up some of the Milwaukee’s Best, I ran across the street, into oncoming traffic, for some free smells and a Beach Club. When I came out a few minutes later, my friend was passed out in an empty parking spot. I waved my sandwich in front of her face (it’s like a delicious smelling salt, yes?), then punched her in the stomach to wake her up.

Eventually we made it home, grabbed a few bottles of water and climbed into her bed, where I passed out immediately. Then, a few minutes later, I woke up in a puddle of my own drool. I was confused. Who’s hand was that up my shirt?

I rolled over quickly, which wasn’t the best idea considering the room was already spinning. My friend was looking at me. I didn’t know what to do or say. I didn’t want to be rude or freak her out, but I also didn’t know how she had gotten such a wrong idea. I just wanted to be her friend, not her friend. Did I send the wrong signals? How did I not know this is what she was after? She did call me a lot. And she did always want to hang out.

“Uh…” I couldn’t think of what to say.

She looked at me.  And then she kissed me.

I tried to stop it a few times. “This is a really bad idea,” I said. “I don’t know what I’m doing. We can’t do this.” But between each assertion that we had to stop, I didn’t stop. It was as if all my protesting was more for myself than for her. And I wasn’t listening.

Twenty minutes later I opened my eyes, realized what I was doing and jumped up.

“Oh my god,” I said. “I have to go.” I quickly grabbed my hat and my sandwich (I don’t know why that sandwich was so important to me) and I ran (literally) all the way home.

My roommates were still at the game when I got back, so I sat on the porch and cried into my Beach Club. I was confused, scared, and had no idea what the eff had just happened. Did that make me gay? Did I secretly have crushes on my 7 female roommates? Did I just totally lead this girl on? Is this something I should even tell my friends about?

I decided it was not the day to share this secret. It was Halloween that night and I didn’t want to ruin the night for everyone else. Plus, if this was a one time mistake anyway, maybe it wasn’t worth sharing. I didn’t want to freak anyone out over nothing. So, when everyone got home, I put on a happy face and went about my business, putting on my Halloween costume with everyone else. (Which, ironically, happened to be a homemade Rainbow Bright ensemble. Talk about awkward.)

I told my roommates the story, one by one, the next day. None of them cared or knew why it was such a big deal (I guess that’s the perk of going to a super liberal university).  Then my accomplice came over later in the day to talk things out. We both tried to convince ourselves that it was a terrible idea, that it should never happen again.

But then it did happen again.
This time completely sober.

We tried to fight it, to understand it, to convince ourselves that it was a bad idea, but neither of us were buying it. So we gave up and gave in. And she became my girlfriend. Which, by the way, did not make my second go as Rainbow Bright that night any less awkward.