Must. Get. Him. Drunk.

It’s the start of a new school year and to honor that, we at CollegeCandy are bringing back our favorite series, “We’ve All Been There.” Every week, Lauren – University of Michigan will comment on the common experiences all college women share, like the first day of classes, including some new adventures and occurrences thrown into the mix.

You met him on the first day of class. He showed up late and took the seat next to you. As the professor droned on (and on) about the books you need, the upcoming group projects and the exam schedule, you two sat in the back of the lecture hall and whined about how awful the next 10 weeks were going to be.

You start sitting together in every class. When a group project is assigned, you choose to work together. When exam time comes, you make a study date at the library. Not that it’s all work; you guys really get along and start chatting daily on AIM and Facebook.

You like this boy. He’s everything you want: he’s smart, he’s funny, he’s got a great smile that makes his eyes scrunch up, he’s interested in the same things as you, he wears great shoes… Sigh.

When you tell your friends about him they urge you to go for it. You, however, aren’t so sure. You have to see him nearly every day for the rest of the semester. What if he doesn’t feel the same way as you? What if he’s just hanging out with you to get the notes from lecture? What if that girl in 3 of his Facebook photos is actually his girlfriend?

But as time goes on you start to like him more. You start putting makeup on before class every day and spend your evenings stalking him online. You start making up excuses to contact him (“I…uh….lost my pen. Can I come over and borrow one?”) and get upset when he doesn’t show up to class (“Oh no, he was probably up late last night hooking up with some other girl. That girl who sits in the front row is gone too. It must be her.”)

When you start drawing out your names in hearts on your notebook paper you realize you need to do something. You only live once, you don’t want to miss out on something great… and you really need to make out with someone. And it’s not like you need to send him a love letter (sprayed with your favorite perfume) expressing your feelings; you guys just need to get drunk together. One night of making out in the corner of a bar will let you know once and for all how he feels.

In class the next morning you casually (or so it seems – you spent hours planning out what you were going to say to him) ask him if he wants to hang out with you and your friends later that night. He agrees.

After hours spent applying makeup, putting together the perfect “I’m a lot hotter than I look in class” outfit and taking a few shots to ease your butterflies, you head out with your friends to meet up with him. No matter how many times they tell you how hot you look and how he obviously likes you, you can’t relax. A million things are going through your mind:

“What am I doing? Am I crazy? Shut up. Stop freaking out. You’re just hanging out. Oh god what if he pushes me away and then I can’t go to class eve again? I’ll fail out of school! Ok, chill. If nothing else, you can just pretend you blacked out. Stop being crazy. OMG I need to poop.”

You pound a few more drinks the moment you step into the bar. Your friend spots him across the room. And he’s wearing a button down. Mmmm.

“Go get him,” she says.

You take a deep breath and go. Then stop. Your friends shove you. You grab one of their beers, chug it and go. The time has come to make your move.

Yeah, we’ve all been there.
There’s nothing like a night of drinking to get a college relationship started.

[Everyone’s got a morning after story (some are more traumatic than others) and we wanna hear yours! Send it over to us and we’ll post it – anonymously, of course – right here!]

After four long and frustrating years of sexual tension, my high school crush and I finally had our first hot makeout sesh the first week of college. That is if you consider making out with some nature special about tarantulas playing in the background to be hot. Regardless, it happened and I was oh so excited. I didn’t want to take things too far that first night, so I acted coy, pushed him away, buttoned up my shirt and left.

We spent the next week flirting on IM and, since he lived in the dorm next to me, running into each other randomly on the way to class. Ok, so maybe it wasn’t so random. Maybe I spent a lot of time outside hoping he’d walk by. Either way, he called me on a Friday night and asked if he could come over.

My roommate packed a bag for the night and shipped off to our friend’s futon down the hall. She was so excited for me, but even more excited to have her first official Sexiling. I, on the other hand, was nervous for the events to come. I had never really done much with a guy before that, so the fear of doing something wrong or, worse, letting him know how inexperienced I was took over. I paced the 10X12 room as I waited for him to call. I lit some candles then blew them out. I created a playlist to set the mood then deleted it. I changed my outfit 4 times.

And then the phone rang.

He was outside the side door of the building and asked me to come down and let him in. I took one last look in the mirror, gave myself a little pep talk (“You’ve practiced on a popsicle – blow jobs can’t be that hard!”) and ran down the four flights of stairs to let him in.

Somewhere around the second landing my stomach started to hurt. All my life my stomach was the first part of me to react to nerves, and at that particular moment, it was reacting with a vengeance.

“I’m going to crap my pants,” I thought to myself. “I can’t have him come to my room and then leave him there while I run to the bathroom to poop.” I had to take care of it immediately.

I ran (literally) to the public bathroom on the main floor of my dorm and made it just in time. The minute I sat down, my nerves exploded into the bowl. I probably could have and should have stayed in there a little longer, but I couldn’t make the boy wait forever. I cleaned up, washed my hands and wiped the sweat from my forehead.

After letting the boy into the building, we made our way back to the stairs to head to my room.
“Oh my god,” he said as we walked past the bathroom. “Someone should really do something about that smell.”

Mortified, I pushed him along, my stomachache returning. We eventually made it to my room where we put on the TV and snuggled in bed. That is, until I could hold it no longer and had to excuse myself to use the bathroom on my hall.
When I came back, green in the face, I told him I wasn’t feeling well and sent him back to his dorm.

My roommate slept down the hall that night while I slept alone with a heating pad on my stomach. I didn’t experience my first real college hook up and she didn’t get her first real Sexile. She was poopiled.

I poopiled my roommate.
Totally pathetic.

I'm gonna have to get this boy drunk.

You met him on the first day of class. He showed up late and took the seat next to you. As the professor droned on (and on) about the books you need, the upcoming group projects and the exam schedule, you two sat in the back of the lecture hall and whined about how awful the next 10 weeks were going to be.

You start sitting together in every class. When a group project is assigned, you choose to work together. When exam time comes, you make a study date at the library. Not that it’s all work; you guys really get along and start chatting daily on AIM and Facebook.

You like this boy. He’s everything you want: he’s smart, he’s funny, he’s got a great smile that makes his eyes scrunch up, he’s interested in the same things as you, he wears great shoes… Sigh.

When you tell your friends about him they urge you to go for it. You, however, aren’t so sure. You have to see him nearly every day for the rest of the semester. What if he doesn’t feel the same way as you? What if he’s just hanging out with you to get the notes from lecture? What if that girl in 3 of his Facebook photos is actually his girlfriend?

But as time goes on you start to like him more. You start putting makeup on before class every day and spend your evenings stalking him online. You start making up excuses to contact him (“I…uh….lost my pen. Can I come over and borrow one?”) and get upset when he doesn’t show up to class (“Oh no, he was probably up late last night hooking up with some other girl. That girl who sits in the front row is gone too. It must be her.”)

When you start drawing out your names in hearts on your notebook paper you realize you need to do something. You only live once, you don’t want to miss out on something great… and you really need to make out with someone. And it’s not like you need to send him a love letter (sprayed with your favorite perfume) expressing your feelings; you guys just need to get drunk together. One night of making out in the corner of a bar will let you know once and for all how he feels.

In class the next morning you casually (or so it seems – you spent hours planning out what you were going to say to him) ask him if he wants to hang out with you and your friends later that night. He agrees.

After hours spent applying makeup, putting together the perfect “I’m a lot hotter than I look in class” outfit and taking a few shots to ease your butterflies, you head out with your friends to meet up with him. No matter how many times they tell you how hot you look and how he obviously likes you, you can’t relax. A million things are going through your mind:

“What am I doing? Am I crazy? Shut up. Stop freaking out. You’re just hanging out. Oh god what if he pushes me away and then I can’t go to class eve again? I’ll fail out of school! Ok, chill. If nothing else, you can just pretend you blacked out. Stop being crazy. OMG I need to poop.”

You pound a few more drinks the moment you step into the bar. Your friend spots him across the room. And he’s wearing a button down. Mmmm.

“Go get him,” she says.

You take a deep breath and go. Then stop. Your friends shove you. You grab one of their beers, chug it and go. The time has come to make your move.

Yeah, we’ve all been there.
There’s nothing like a night of drinking to get a college relationship started.

I will admit it, I’m an awkward girl.  I’ll say goodbye to someone and then walk in the same direction as them with a stupid grin on my face.  I’ve messed up high fives more times than should be legally allowed.  I’ve called my roommates good friend (whom I’ve known for months) “Tyler,” when his name is “Lucas”…HOW DO YOU MESS THAT UP?  I’m able to take a perfectly normal moment and transform it into a typical scene in any Wes Anderson film (it’s a gift). The trouble is, I don’t realize how incredibly dorky I must look until looking back, and slapping my forehead accordingly.

So by the rules of physics (which I am unsurprisingly sucky at) it would only make sense that I would take this persona I’ve been cursed blessed with and apply to almost every sexual encounter I’ve experienced.  Well, of course, the beginnings are more of learning experiences rather than “fun timez.”   Now let’s time travel back 7 years when it all began…

Cue the hazy flashbacks and dream-like sound effects.

It’s 2002.  I am 12 years old and in 6th grade.  According to the more experienced middle-schoolers on the playground, I had a “boyfriend.”  This boy would talk to me on AOL (yeah…old skool), but we wouldn’t dare even look at each other during school.  I was so nervous to have a boy like me, I was completely unaware of how I should act around him.  Even at school basketball games together I was so scared just to sit by him because maybe he’d put his arm around me! (OMGG!!)  So one day I decided I needed to break out of my shell a bit.  My good friend lived by his friend, and on weekends I naturally spent most of the weekend there trying to make plans to have us all meet up and hang out.  For the 4 months we supposedly dated, this “weekend hang-out plan” worked literally 1 time.

That night my mom called me asking me our plans for the night, and I told her we were going to see a movie (lie). What I was really doing was sneaking out with my one friend to meet up with my “boyfriend” and his friend.  This rush I got from lying to my mom for the first time sent me on this adrenaline high of “I’M SO EFFIN’ COOL I CAN DO ANYTHING! I’M A REBEL!”  Later that night we eventually met up, and, as was naturally destined for me, it was awkward.  I’m pretty sure there was an unspoken agreement between the group that me and my “boyfriend” should seal the deal and KISS!

I can definitely say that feeling “nervous” was an understatement.  We stood there in the backyard in the dark for what seemed like hours in the middle of an mid-April night, as our friend sat on the curb of the street under the streetlight patiently waiting for the deed to be done.  It was chilly and I didn’t have a sweater, so I decided I was sick of being cold and waiting for my first kiss, so I leaned in so he’d get the idea.  He definitely got the idea, and as I was slowly ready for my first kiss to happen, even schizophrenically hearing the tune to “Dreams” by Cranberries in my head, that record scratch sound came into play at that very moment.

Instead of demonstrating a sweet (and normal) peck to be given, I felt something wet.  Huh? WTF David Blane?  He. Licked. My. Mouth.

He didn’t even start with a normal peck and move his tongue around, like an inexperienced 6th grader might.  He straight up licked my mouth like a melting ice cream cone in August.  Maybe he was expecting a sexified makeout session, or maybe he was expecting a normal kiss but started it off wrong?  Was it wrong that I was expecting just a peck?  So as a mature middle-schooler I was, I decided to stop… and start screaming.  I walked out of there wiping my mouth and ran to my friend so she’d get the idea that we had to leave NOW. 

I realize this story should be called “Seven Years After” instead of “The Morning After,” but I also know that first kisses tend to stick around in everyone’s memories. And this one just had to be shared. Anyone else have some first kiss horror stories?

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Now, before you start judging me, hear me out! I too was of the “online dating is kind of weird and creepy” mentality, until a good friend of mine gave it a try and met a really sweet, funny, cute guy. Totally not creepy at all!

Maybe I could give it a try…I mean, I could just create a profile, no obligation to go on any dates at all. I’ve been feeling stuck in a rut lately–I seem to meet the same guy over and over. We like each other, we’re attracted to each other, but he doesn’t want a relationship. The online dating community, I figured, is full of like-minded people, people who are looking to meet someone and really date, instead of just hooking up.

I created a profile and tried to pick out some flattering-but-accurate photos. I listed my interests, what I like to do, and picked out a few criteria for my potential man (non-smoker please!) One click, and I was done.

I got a few messages from guys I wasn’t really interested in. I had decided that, since I was just testing it out, I wouldn’t actually search for anyone, I would just have a look at whoever expressed interest in me. Finally, a few days later, I got a note from a cute guy. He had taken my little “about me” section and modified it so it was about him. Funny! His profile was witty, and we shared a lot of interests. He had a few pictures posted, and he looked totally my type–skinny, tall, glasses.

I figured, what the heck, why not? I responded. We exchanged a few clever e-mails back and forth before finally deciding to hang out. We picked a restaurant, a day, and a time. So far, so good.

That’s when the nerves hit. I have never been so nervous for something in my entire life. I felt like I was about to take the SAT’s, or open up that first letter from a college. I felt like at any moment I would pass out from the pure adrenaline. What if he doesn’t think I’m cute? What if I’m not funny enough? What if, what if, what if!?

The day of the date came along, and I primped and primped. I picked out the best possible outfit (sexy but not too sexy, dressy but not over-the-top), shaved my legs, put on lipstick, dabbed on some perfume, the works. I was so nervous on my way there that I actually considered bailing several times. I called my friend and had her calm me down. Breathe.

I saw him standing outside the restaurant and suddenly, my heart sunk a little. He was much shorter than he seemed in his photos, and, call me superficial, but I like my guys on the tall side. In his photos he was just wearing a plain t-shirt, but now he looked like something out of Revenge of the Nerds–pleated khakis, a short-sleeve buttoned down shirt tucked in, and clunky black shoes.

OK, whatever, I knew he was a temp, so I let it go. We said hello and went inside. We sat down at the table and looked at our menus. And then…the silence.

I don’t know if he was nervous or just shy, but all that witty banter and funny commentary just disappeared. It was like I was sitting next to the dorky twin brother of the boy I had met online–he was socially awkward and painfully quiet. I tried engaging him in conversation by asking him questions about himself, but I kept getting one-word answers. I starting talking about myself, just to fill the silence, until I couldn’t bear hearing my own voice any more. Nothing.

He just sat there and ate his spaghetti (after commenting “hm, I haven’t had spaghetti in a while”. Really? How fascinating) When I tried to reference things we had said in our e-mails, I was met with blank stares.

I have never eaten a salad so fast in my entire life.

He walked me to the subway, and we exchanged a quick goodbye. He didn’t ask to see me again, thank goodness, and I quickly headed over to a friend’s house to unwind with some ice cream. Our “date” lasted less than two hours: two painful, excruciating hours.

I get being shy, or nervous. Heck, I was about to vomit I was so nervous. But it was really like he had created this entire online persona which he couldn’t reproduce in person. I remembered the thrill of seeing someone across the room and locking eyes, or when you find yourself in a great conversation with someone you’ve just met. I decided I wanted to date real people, not online personas.

I guess online dating works for some people, but it’s just not for me.