You’re at a house party or a bar… or in line to get into a house party or bar. It doesn’t matter. Wherever you are, you’ve just spotted a very handsome boy and you want to talk to him. You turn to your friends and point him out.

“OMG, girl, he IS hot. Go to him,” they say. Then you spend the next 5 minutes debating the best conversation starter/reapplying lip gloss/yanking your shirt down a wee bit lower to show off the girls. When everything is in order (“Do I have anything in my teeth??” you ask your friends as you flash a big, toothy smile), you move in.

Due to some extreme Power Houring before leaving the house, your friends are feeling rather rambunctious. As you make your way to get a drink, they shove you into the boy. Not part of the carefully laid out plan, but that move has been known to work wonders in the past.

You grab the boy’s arm (which feels nice and muscley through that button-down shirt of his) and apologize for your friends. He smiles at you. [Swoon.] You offer to buy him a drink to replace the one that spilled when you fell into him. He offers to buy you one instead.

It’s already working.

While waiting at the bar for a bartender (any bartender) to look your way, you start chatting with the boy. You get his name (which you may or may not forget .25 seconds later), his major, his hometown….the usual. Then you start chatting about more important things, like why Vodka and Soda is better than Jack and Coke any day.

As time passes, you start getting a bit closer. First, he rests his arm next to yours on the bar as you sip your drink. Then he puts it around you as someone passes by. When you walk away from the bar, he puts his hand on the small of your back and leads you. When you bump into his friends and start talkin’, he puts his arm around your shoulder (and you put your hand on the small of his back). Then he starts rubbing your back….

Then his tongue is down your throat and he’s nibbling on your ear in the back corner by the bathroom. And you are getting goose bumps/weak in the knees.

You silently celebrate your success as you debate what to do with the full drink in your hand. You pull away for a second, put that sucker down and start running your hands through the boy’s hair.

While making out in public is completely socially acceptable in college watering holes, knowing your friends (and the rest of the bar) are watching from the corner skeeves you out. You ask the boy if he wants to go. You both pound your drinks, you not-so-seductively wipe the inevitable drips off your face with the back of your hand, then he grabs your hand and you head back to his place… where you wake up 6 hours later under a dirty sheet listening to him snore.

—

Yeah, we’ve all been there. If we were smart, we stuck around for a morning romp. If we were lucky, we got a ride home. If not, we stuck our bra in our purse, wiped the mascara from our cheek and did the run/walk home as we attempted to avoid snickers from strangers on their way to class.

For the rest of the evening, you and cutie partner boy tell the tales of an awesome game…while rubbing each other’s backs and making flirty/inappropriate comments between beers. Before you know it, you’re outside on the driveway eating his face like he’s a giant slice of late night pizza. (Mmm, pizza.)

“Wanna go somewhere?” He asks.

“Obvi,” you answer as he’s grabbing your hand and leading you back to his place. You stumble down the street, making out at every stop sign and red light you encounter.  Soon you are back at his dorm which, thankfully, is a single. Also a single? His bed.

As you are setting your stuff on the floor, he grabs you and you make your way to the bed. There’s kissing, groping and a nearly unsuccessful go at your bra hooks. Things are going fine (great, even) until he attempts to get on top of you. You roll on your back when – SMACK – you hit the wall. You try to shimmy to your right a little bit but there’s nowhere to go. If you move another inch you’ll send him flying onto the floor.

“Ok, you go left and I’ll go right,” you explain. It takes a few tries (which look like something out of Circ-De-Soleil), but it finally works. He’s on top. You decide to stick in this formation for awhile to keep things simple, but as things heat up you forget about the spatial issues. Mid-passionate kiss, the boy makes it clear that he wants to switch things up a bit and before you know it, you’re grasping on his bicep so as not to fall out of the bed.

The boy pulls you back up, you laugh, and then things resume. Eventually (too soon, in your opinion), the lust-sesh is over and you doze off. He’s spooning you, which would be cute if your face wasn’t pressed into the wall. Or if your arm weren’t totally asleep with no opportunity of moving to wake it up a bit. You stir a bit, hoping to wake the boy up so you can both roll onto your backs, but he doesn’t budge. Not that there would be room for that anyway. You contemplate an escape plan.

There is no way you’re getting up and going home. But rolling over – thus becoming the big spoon – isn’t an option either. That would just be weird. But you have to do something; your arm is starting to tingle and you’re pretty sure your mouth is thisclose to what is surely lead paint on the walls.

When the boy lets out a loud snore, though, you realize you are stuck between a rock (hard body) and a hard (lead) place. So you close your eyes and wait for the booze to kick in and knock you out. If your arm can fall asleep, why can’t you?

—
Yeah, we’ve all been there. That is why we’re officially sticking to older men – they’ve got the big beds.

Want more typical tales of a college coed? Get ‘em right here, right now.

[Everyone’s got a morning after story (but most don't involve parental units) and we wanna hear yours! Send it over to us and we’ll post it – anonymously, of course – right here!]

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.

Got some college questions? Unsure of a decision? Considering spending some time abroad? Just wanna chat it up with some really awesome chics?

Question:
I’m in a pickle. Yes, I just said pickle. I recently drunkenly made out with a boy who lives on my hall. If that’s not bad enough, his ex GF is in, like, all of my classes and saw it happen (it was at a frat party….I know, embarrassing). Now she’s seriously giving me major sh*t for it and even bitched me out in the hallway in front of one of our lectures. I don’t think I owe her an apology (they were BROKEN UP), but I also don’t want any enemies. Especially because final projects are coming up for one of our marketing classes and there’s a chance we might be in a group together. What the eff am I supposed to do!?

GPA Girl:
Yikes! That really is a pickle. It sucks that this girl is making life difficult for you because of something that was embarrassing but not really a bad thing of you to do. I mean, I’m sure you feel bad enough about it already. As hard as it may be (and as much as you shouldn’t have to do it . . .), maybe you should talk to this girl. Write her an e-mail or pull her aside in the cafeteria or something and just say, “Hey. I am really upset because of the way you’ve been treating me around campus, and I just want to ask you to stop, please, because I don’t have anything against you and would like to put this behind us.” If she keeps being totally bogus, I recommend just avoiding her as much as possible. It’ll become pretty clear pretty quick to anyone watching that SHE’s the one with the issue, not you.

Party Girl:

I actually don’t see any issues here. I mean, when you party and have a good time (and making out with a hottie at a frat party sounds like a good time to me), you always run the risk of an awkward encounter in the weeks following. And I don’t think your rando make-out partner’s ex-girlfriend should be a problem either. Just brush it off and move on with your obviously awesome life. Ignore her. She sounds like a stressy pile of bitch. She’s only in one of your classes and it’s only for one semester. Even if she ends up in your group, she’s only one person and the rest of the group won’t let her ruin things for everyone. This will blow over in like a week and before you know it, you and this chick will be throwing back shots at the next frat party and laughing about your boy toy’s bedroom moves.

Busy Bee:
Yes, pickle would be the correct term. I have a feeling that if you tried confronting the girl, she would spread some more nasty rumors about you. Right now, I honestly think the best thing you can do is just ignore her. She isn’t worth your time and, clearly, her mind is messed up from the break up. I don’t know if the guy and his ex is still close, but if you can, try talking to the guy. Tell him what’s going on and that you just want to stay out of it. I seriously think that this is unnecessary drama!

If you two girls get stuck in a group for marketing, just tell the prof you want to switch groups, or avoid being in the same group at all costs. Look, summer is almost here and your best bet is just push through the rest of this semester without her in your life.

Here come the bad decisions!

As 2009 was coming to a close I vowed that I’d make some big changes for the year to come, namely to act like the adult that I am and not like the rockstar college girl I once was. I told myself I’d drink more responsibly, that I didn’t need to get drunk to have fun, and that I might finally be at the age when dancing on stages is no longer socially acceptable.

And then I found myself making out with my really close guy friend a mere 45 minutes into the new year.

(Well, there’s always next year I guess!)

After we both came to our senses and realized what was going on (aided by another friend walking in, laughing, and taking pictures) we went our separate ways. And by “separate ways,” I mean “to get more booze.”  Word spread that we had gotten a little gropey on his bed and my girlfriends started accosting me. “I’m drunk!” I explained. “It’s not a big deal.”

And they totally understood.

The truth is, we all do dumb things when we’re drinking. It’s part of what makes drinking so much fun! No? Just me? Well, at least the dumb things we do are more understandable. Just ask Jamie Fox. So instead of hiding that ish and pretending you can’t remember it (we’re onto you) why not share it with your friends here at CollegeCandy? Below, the CC writers share their fondest (if not haziest) dumb-drunk moments. Share your own (you know you’ve got plenty!) in the comments section below.

Rosie – Duke: I was at a Passover Seder at the student Jewish center on campus, which I had, of course, pregamed. Throughout the meal I consumed much more Manischewitz, as any good Jew would do. When the rabbi commenced the closing prayers, I kept up my conversation with my giant 6’4″ baseball friend. I said to him “your nose is so big and Jewish” then reached out and grabbed it. I guess I squeezed a bit too hard because it began to bleed everywhere. I started laughing hysterically and was asked to leave the service since I couldn’t control myself. I was receiving weekly emails from the Jewish center prior to that but have not received one since.

Ness – Sheridan: Two words: topless Twister.

Kiki – University of Missouri: Three days after Party in the USA became a sorority girl anthem, I managed to break a ceiling fan while rocking out mid-chorus. Rather than pausing to recognize the electrical carnage, I continued to keep my hands up, since they were playing my song. Nodding my head like yeah, moving my hips like yeah, avoiding light bulb shards like yeah.

Alex – Lakehead University: Last Halloween me and my friend got hammered and ended up puking behind a gas station at 11pm. Here’s the kicker: my very new boyfriend (as in two weeks new!) had to get me home and give me Gravol to stop the hurling. But, he’s still with me!

Arielle – Quinnipiac University: I stuck my entire body out of my friend’s car window while waiting in line at the drive-through and sang (read: screamed) the 7th Heaven theme song for all of the cars waiting in line. I’m still waiting to be signed by a record label …

Kelly – University of Iowa: I told all of my friends that my boyfriend proposed to me (he did, jokingly with an onion ring at the dining hall), and we planned my whole wedding. Not creepy at all.

Thu – USC: I insisted that I wasn’t drunk, but failed miserably at convincing people to believe so. At least that’s how they saw it.

Lauren – University of Michigan: I tried to squat and pee behind a bush and didn’t realize how big of a hill I was on. Needless to say, I lost my balance (heels+skinny jeans+beer pong = disaster) and rolled down the hill…with my pants around my ankles….towards the busy sidewalk where people were en route to parties.

Brithny- Duke: Keggerskating. Sooo fun, but let’s just say it’s not as easy as it seems. Eight wheels and a keg of beer do not mesh well.

Elizabeth – UC Berkeley: I missed my last home football game because I was dancing with some guy wearing a giant watermelon suit.

Noa – CU Boulder: I once came home from a lingerie party and attempted to seduce my R.A. Only when I busted in his room at 1 a.m. he was already in there….with his boyfriend.

Nina – Michigan State University: Apparently I pulled a hotel’s fire alarm while in another country. But when my friends asked me about it right after, I legitimately did not remember pulling the fire alarm, seeing the fire truck outside, nor the firefighters swarming into the hotel as we walked to the nightclubs….

Elise – Stanford: I told one of my best friend’s sisters about her tattoo, which she didn’t know about!

Cristina – Michigan State: I just consider this dumb, not particularly badass, but I was drunk and forced my friend take me to Meijer to return a book. I seriously would not leave her alone until she drove me there. They gave me a few looks but I GOT MY MONEY BACK. EPIC WIN.

Jill – University of Wisconsin: Dropped my phone in a sewer during the biggest block party of the year. Everyone was around me cheering me on trying to get it, the fire department refused to help, and when I FINALLY got it out, the school news paper took my photo. At the moment, I was proud. Now, not so much.

Not friends.

“Tonight let’s be lovers…and tomorrow we’ll go back to being friends.”

Sorry Dave. While I fancy your rock band and appreciate the length you went to in order to solicit platonic sex from your besties, I simply cannot endorse these lyrics. (Sorry, male friends.) But I just do not think it is wise to play Mario Kart with your guy pal one night and doctor the next, unless you want your nipples handled like joysticks and a guaranteed disappointment.

If you’re loose with your definition of “friend,” say “I love you” to each of your hall mates, and blast mass text messages like it’s your job, then you will undoubtedly disagree. After all, what’s wrong with a little hanky panky from your drinking buddy next door? However, to me “friend” has a very sacred and categorical meaning. The fuzzy area surrounding is reserved for titles like “acquaintance” “buddy” or “pal.” Not “late night booty partner.” Therefore, to hook up with a friend by my definition is inherently incongruous and somewhat fraudulent. A truly, strictly platonic relationship never goes temporarily sexual. The beauty of friendship is that it is pure, transparent and resolute. To take things carnal is not only unnatural and um, awkward, but potentially blasphemous.

For those “friends with benefits” enthusiasts ready to Tonya Harding my cankles, relax. I am not judging you for giving your dude friend a ride to Pleasuretown. I’m just saying real friends don’t let each other shack up at the Howard Johnson…. or in your lofted twin XL.

While I don’t think boy and girl buddies can alternate between playmates and bedmates, I do believe that friendship can evolve into romance. In fact, I think this can make for a wonderful relationship. However, “friends” – girls, boys, whatever – don’t suddenly find themselves in transient, precariously intimate situations (barring healthy ecstasy consumption or an apocalypse) without some pre-existing feelings of sexual attraction or romantic affections, thereby disqualifying them as friends. A drunken, harmless make-out sesh, yes; an “I’ll show you mine if you show me yours” exchange, highly encouraged. But if heads head south, you are more than just friends.

I admit this is the opinion of a fairly sexually conservative female: I have never been the girl who dry humps a pole in the middle of the dance floor, nor have I ever volunteered to french kiss my roommate for the last Natty Light. (For the last piece of pizza, however, I’d beat her up.) So maybe there are girls out there who can straddle that friend line without complications. I also recognize that there are the inexplicable moments of weakness aptly named “I just broke up with my boyfriend” or “Spring Break Rules” or “Tequila,” and that most dudes would just as soon boink their best girlfriends than mow their lawn. These “exceptions” aside, however, I maintain that “just friends” don’t “just f*ck.”

Perhaps more importantly, while the “friends with benefits” can be a convenient and quite tempting arrangement, (aka, no dinner dates required, and bodily fluid jokes encouraged), the complications that can arise and the regrets that may surface aren’t really worth the best-of-both-worlds situation. Chances are someone is going to get hurt. One player will be more emotionally invested than the other, the benefits will trump the friend, the lines of communication will collapse under the weight of the “what did that really mean?” and unless there is a simultaneous pull-out (of the arrangement), someone will feel rejected.

The bottom line is no friendship ever improves after an impromptu scissor fest or a drunken cavity search, so the next time you and your couch buddy are feeling lonely, and perhaps a little dirty, skip the tongue bath and hit the showers, cold, and separately. You may need to help yourself out, but you’ll be much more satisfied in the long run.

Hey Dude,

I’ve done the Friends With Benefits thing, and, to say the least, I’m not cut out for it.  Now I have this amazing guy in my life who I consider my best friend, but I’m confused over how I’m supposed to know if he likes me as in a relationship sense or if he just wants to sleep with me.

He texts me quite often, even if just to say hi or to see what I’m up to, or make sure I’m feeling better when I’m sick.  We’ve gone out before with mutual friends and had a blast.  We’re both more of homebodies, so he comes over to my place now regularly and we hang out.  We’ve made out, but I end it before it goes any further because I don’t want the Friends With Benefits thing to happen.

So, how do I know?!

Thanks,
Confused

Hey Hey Confused,

Tricky situation, but let me Nancy Drew this mystery and break down the facts. First off, the guy wouldn’t text you or care if you’re sick if he just wants to sleep with you. Although texting might seem like a cop-out, in this day and age it’s a perfect vehicle for chatting someone up. Who even uses AIM anymore? Remember those days?

Secondly, it’s really great that you’re not putting out right away. Props. Not only are you protecting yourself and your feelings, but that also proves that he wants something more if he’s sticking around. This has clearly been running it’s course for a while; if he just wanted to get laid he’d have gotten frustrated and given up a long time ago. Guys are simple that way. Sure, we’ll pursue something that we can’t have, but if we’re just looking for a quick lay, there’s not a chance that we’ll text incessantly and baby you if you’re sick.

That sounds like he wants girlfriend material, not a few humps in a twin extra long. And throw a few bonus points to the relationship column if he’s hanging out with you and your friends.

No need to be confused, Confused. It sounds like homeboy is just a bit shy. Maybe you should help him step it up a notch and move the hang-out sessions to your favorite sushi spot instead of your dorm room futon. Or, if he’s not into the whole raw fish thing, you could just have “the talk.” I’m pretty confident he’s feeling the same way you are.

Hope that helps!

– El Dude

[Got a question for Mr. Dude? (And, no, that doesn't include asking him out; homeboy is taken!) Ask it: askthedude@collegecandy.com. He won't sugarcoat it, beat around the bush, or any other weird cliche that means lie to you. He'll be 100% real dude, 100% of the time. So bring it on, ladies.]

"And that, my little freshmen, is why that boy didn't call you back."

College. Sigh. It’s unlike any other time in your life. It has its own set of rules, it’s own unique circumstances. And it’s not always easy to navigate. Enter…me! Every week I’ll be tackling your questions about college. From classes to keggers, I’ll do my best to respond and be your Pez dispenser of collegiate wisdom.

1. How do I avoid that sneaky Freshman 15?
The most obvious answer is don’t drink. Drinking adds those extra calories that you didn’t have in high school, not to mention the drunk munchies. Who hasn’t gone to bed at 4 AM on a Thursday spooning a box of Lucky Charms? Leaving behind sports teams in high school and replacing field hockey practice with marathon drinking is a surefire way to pack on the pounds. Weekday drinking is probably the number one contributor to the Freshie 15, in addition the dining hall, the University equivalent of an all you can eat buffet in Vegas. Think about it. Not ready to give up drinking on Tuesdays or the tater tots at the dining hall? Utilize that gym on campus, join an intramural team and try to stay on a good sleeping schedule.

2. That guy that I hooked up with drunkenly at a party isn’t calling me?! What gives?
Pick and choose your reason(s):
- You were so blacked out you had a penis drawn on your face while you were making out with him. In front of all his friends. First impressions last.
- He has a girlfriend
- It’s a little awksauce calling someone after a sloppy hook up
- He doesn’t remember hooking up with you

Drunken hookups happen. Just because you kissed some guy in a bar doesn’t mean you’re dating. Just because he calls you to “hang out” only when he’s drunk doesn’t mean he’s your boyfriend. Welcome to the wonderful world of college guys.

3. How much studying is enough?
The rule of thumb is you study nightly three times the length of your class. So, if your class is 45 minutes, you study a little over two hours. Well, in a perfect world, at least. But this is college; life, drinking and Top Model sometimes get in the way of academics. I’m not suggesting that you skirt around your academic responsibilities, your primary focus in college should be studying. However, if you don’t do all the reading for class the next day, it’s not the end of the world. Just put in those extra hours you skipped when midterms and finals roll around.

4. I’m totally crushing on my professor, what do I do?
Ogle him in class. That’s it. I promise you, nothing good comes of a student/professor hook up. Except an “A.” Kidding. Kinda.

5. I’m failing a class… help!
Talk to your professor, they’re there to help you. The worst thing you can do is put off getting help in a class until the last minute. When you’re struggling with a subject and constantly putting in the effort, showing up to office hours and doing everything you can to pull your grade up, professors are more than likely to help you out. They want to see you succeed! They don’t want you to write a page-long explanation on the back of your final exam detailing why you did so poorly. They will not take pity on you at that point. Trust me. I’ve been there. And I got a D.

[Got a question you want answered? Leave it here in the comments or shoot me an email at Melanie@CollegeCandy.com!]

It’s a well-known fact that guys will go home with just about anything when they’re drunk.  It’s not that they’re desperate, they’re just…well, guys.  And guys like sex.  So it’s not surprising that you don’t exactly have to be a genius/supermodel to have a special (or not-so-special) one-night engagement with a dude at the bar.

However, women are a different story.

As much as we sometimes want to have some crazy sex, we have standards.  We won’t go home with just anybody.   In fact, there are some guys that we’ll never go home with.  Sorry dudes, but if you’re on this list you may want to consider celibacy.

In no particular order, here are the guys you probably aren’t going to be taking home to bump uglies with any time soon (hopefully):

Sweaty, Smelly Guy

It can get hot in the bar.  Especially when there is dancing (and when I’m there, there is always dancing).  However, there’s always that one guy busting a move in the middle of the dance floor who everyone seems to be avoiding.  Then you see it: the dark stain spreading across his back, the beads of perspiration rolling down his face.  He’s wiping his brow with his sleeve and pushing his hair off his forehead (leaving him in a Something About Mary situation).

You’re scared to even go near him, lest some sweat fly off him and land on your face or worse, in your drink.  Definitely not conducive to an invitation home.

Guy Making Out With Everyone Else At the Bar

This dude is a fun one to watch, but don’t let him get within a two foot radius of you or you’ll find his tongue in your mouth.  He’s tipsy, indiscriminate, and a make-out whore.  This is the guy that will probably give all your friends Herpes after licking their faces (he thinks that’s totally sexy, btw).  I

f he’s between ladies when you bump into him, you’ll recognize him by his Christian Audigier outfit and excessively gelled hair.  In fact, you may even smell him as soon as you step into the bar, because he pretty much bathes in Axe body spray.

Creepy Creeper Guy

I can see him now…clutching his drink, eyes narrowed and staring, and wearing clothes that don’t quite fit the bar atmosphere (oversized short-sleeve button down, anyone?).  This is the dude that makes you feel more than slightly uncomfortable when you’re breaking it down with your friends.  His eyes will follow you around that dance floor, but even if you’re shoved right up next to him by some freak crowd accident, he still won’t talk to you.  He’s just gonna sit there and hold his drink while staring at all the dancers. If you actually do get him to talk (although why you would, I have no idea), be warned that he’s probably a mumbler and will say something odd about a hobby of his or give you a creepy compliment.  Unfortunately, due to his excessive creepiness, Mr. Stares Too Much probably won’t have anyone to bring home to see his doll collection.

Oversized Bouncer With Neckbeard

We’ve all been stuck outside a club staring down a massive hulk of a man called a bouncer.  Thoughts, crazy thoughts, fly through our heads as we imagine the alcohol-fueled hijinks that are going on inside without us.  Should we flirt with him to get in sooner?  Tip him?  Flash him?!  Wait – slow down a second.  This dude has a neckbeard.  And more body mass than you and your friends put together.  What could a few more minutes of waiting hurt?  The real danger is later when Mr. Bouncer Man is off duty and creeping through the club for some ladies.  By that time you’ve had a couple drinks and appreciate his all-black ensemble.  However, there’s no way you’re gonna get past your reservations about his neck roll and douchebag diamond earring.  Mr. Bouncer Man is going home alone tonight.

Older Guy Who Doesn’t Really Belong At the Bar

Is he a professor? Someone’s dad?  Just a creepy old dude?  You never can tell with this one.  Homie came to the bar because he wants to score some young hotties and too bad for him because we’re not gonna take any part in that.  You may brush  past him at one point and recognize the same cologne that your dad wears.  And he’s definitely sporting some Tommy Bahama up in there.

Oh yeah, and that’s probably a wedding band he’s surreptitiously slipping off his finger to hide in his pocket (right next to the pictures of his kids).  Unless you have a strange Daddy Fantasy, then Older Guy will have to finish his whiskey soda and go home alone.

You’re at a house party or a bar… or in line to get into a house party or bar. It doesn’t matter. Wherever you are, you’ve just spotted a very handsome boy and you want to talk to him. You turn to your friends and point him out.

“OMG, girl, he IS hot. Go to him,” they say. Then you spend the next 5 minutes debating the best conversation starter/reapplying lip gloss/yanking your shirt down a wee bit lower to show off the girls. When everything is in order (“Do I have anything in my teeth??” you ask your friends as you flash a big, toothy smile), you move in.

Due to some extreme Power Houring before leaving the house, your friends are feeling rather rambunctious. As you make your way to get a drink, they shove you into the boy. Not part of the carefully laid out plan, but that move has been known to work wonders in the past.

You grab the boy’s arm (which feels nice and muscley through that button-down shirt of his) and apologize for your friends. He smiles at you. [Swoon.] You offer to buy him a drink to replace the one that spilled when you fell into him. He offers to buy you one instead.

It’s already working.

While waiting at the bar for a bartender (any bartender) to look your way, you start chatting with the boy. You get his name (which you may or may not forget .25 seconds later), his major, his hometown….the usual. Then you start chatting about more important things, like why Vodka and Soda is better than Jack and Coke any day.

As time passes, you start getting a bit closer. First, he rests his arm next to yours on the bar as you sip your drink. Then he puts it around you as someone passes by. When you walk away from the bar, he puts his hand on the small of your back and leads you. When you bump into his friends and start talkin’, he puts his arm around your shoulder (and you put your hand on the small of his back).  Then he starts rubbing your back….

Then his tongue is down your throat and he’s nibbling on your ear in the back corner by the bathroom. And you are getting goose bumps/weak in the knees.

You silently celebrate your success as you debate what to do with the full drink in your hand. You pull away for a second, put that sucker down and start running your hands through the boy’s hair.

While making out in public is completely socially acceptable in college watering holes, knowing your friends (and the rest of the bar) are watching from the corner skeeves you out. You ask the boy if he wants to go. You both pound your drinks, he grabs your hand and you head back to his place… where you wake up 6 hours later under a dirty sheet listening to him snore.

Yeah, we’ve all been there. And if we were smart, we stuck around for a morning romp.