The Morning After: The Bedroom Treasure Hunt
I saw him at my first sorority mixer. He was the social chair of his fraternity and from the moment he checked my name on the guest list, I was in love. He looked dreamy in his designer jeans and flip flops, his hair perfectly floppy. And he knew my name. Well, at least for that moment.
I spent a year cyber-stalking him, convincing my sorority to plan more events with his house and then pussying out whenever I had the opportunity to talk to him. He was older, wiser, and definitely a highly sought after guy campus wide; there was no way he’d ever notice me.
And then, like a gift from heaven, we ended up in a summer term class together.
The class was small, only 30 people. When I walked in the first day (looking like a hot, sweaty mess thanks to my crappy house’s lack of A/C) and spotted him, I could barely contain my excitement. Finally! An excuse to talk to my knight in khaki cargo shorted armor. If only I didn’t have pit stains…
He looked up at me and waved (OMG OMG OMG He recognizes me!). I waved back, then walked to his side of the room and sat down. We ended up talking for most of the class (at least when the professor wasn’t droning on about how “summer term is not some blow off” and listing off all the group assignments we had coming our way), then did so again the next day. And the day after that. He Facebooked me. I Facebook-stalked him. He invited me to a house party he and his “boys” were having. I jumped around my room in my underwear and immediately started planning my cute-but-not-too-over-the-top outfit for class the next day.
Two weeks later, when the first (of many) group projects was assigned, he asked if I wanted to work with him. It took every fiber of my being not to jump up and scream.
That weekend, we decided to meet up at my place to start researching. My roommate had friends from home taking up every inch of common space in our house, so McDreamy and I hunkered down in my room. More specifically, on my bed, as there was really nowhere else to sit. Laptops in hand, we got to work. Then took a two hour break to shoot the sh*t. Then did some more work.
And then, before I knew what the hell was going on, my laptop was on the floor and we were making out like 7th graders in a bar mitzvah coat room.
Things started to heat up so we pushed the textbooks and pens off the bed (after I got stabbed in the leg) and got to it. My shirt came off. His shirt came off. I threw it on the floor, pushed him on the bed and jokingly jumped on top of him.
“Ouch,” he pulled away. “What is digging into my back right now?” He reached behind him to find the painful offender. And when he finally got it, I was mortified.
There, in his hand, was my vibrator.
My small, pink vibrator.
The room got painfully silent. I was so embarrassed I couldn’t form words. The guy I was in love with for over a year, who was finally IN MY BED (topless) and KISSING ME (topless), was now holding a my vibrator and staring blankly at me.
I wanted to cry. I wanted to crawl under the covers and never come out. I wanted to believe that maybe he thought it was a neck massager. But of course he didn’t. He knew exactly what he was holding in his hand.
After what seemed like 13 hours of silence (but was probably more like 13 seconds), he started laughing. Like, really laughing. So hard that I had to get off of him… then curl up in the fetal position next to him.
All I could think about was how I was going to have to do the entire group project by myself because I couldn’t face him again. Or, worse, have to withdraw from the class and take it again the following semester. Or maybe even transfer schools to the other side of the country.
But it turns out none of that was necessary, because the next thing I knew McDreamy was kissing my back. And four weeks later, despite that little snafu, we were officially dating.
Yeah, it wasn’t my finest moment (and I’m probably not gonna share that story with the grandkids), but at least we got the embarrassing moment thing out of the way early on.