Phase 1: Inappropriately Drunk for a Wednesday
Your Wednesday night starts at 9PM when your roommate asks you if you’re going out. Going out?! Hell no! You have an 8AM class tomorrow all the way in Academic West!
But then…someone takes out the tequila. And you remember that you just bought limes. And now there’s no going back. You hop in the shower quickly and time’s a tickin’, so you try to speed up the process by taking shots in the shower.
Before your hair dries, you’ve taken 1 tequila… 2 tequila… 3 tequila… shots, and you’ve already laced up your 7th grade converse that are now your beloved frat shoes. So you run down the stairs of your dorm, and the alcohol is pumping through your veins…and suddenly you remember! You whip your phone out and turn on 3 alarms: 7:30AM, 7:40AM, 7:50AM. How responsible.
You roll up to the party and do some sort of weird head nod to the boys standing at the door. The boys of the frat, always protecting their house. You look around for that special someone, and realize he’s on risk. Fuck. You just wasted your limes for nothing! So you look to the right and see that cute kid from class…well, option 2 isn’t so bad. You make deep eye contact while “Timber” plays, and you both know it’s going down.
“You wanna get out of here?”
“Yes.”
Phase 2: The Awkward Walk Home
He’s trying to hold your hand, and you’re wondering: is this cute or just oddly intimate? Scrambling for a conversation — or just anything to fill the awkward silence – you fall back on the classic, “soooo, where do you live on campus?” As if you won’t find out soon enough. You’d think that with your liquid confidence (shout out to you, tequila) conversations would flow just like beer from the keg. Though for some reason, these walks home are just the opposite: awkward.
Phase 3: The Build Up
You both know what you’re about to do, but no one has said it. Under the haze of intoxication, there seems to be an understanding that “do you wanna get out of here?” equals “do you wanna have sex?” And now that you’re back in his room, there’s another understanding: you need to get to his bed as quickly and as smoothly as possible. No more awkward small talk. You’re here for what you came to do.
“Let’s have sex.”
“Yes.”
Phase 4: The Sex
You’re aggressively making out again. Though, this time you’re not on a riser in a frat house. You’re on top of him. Touching turns to grabbing, and clothes are coming off. Each touch is filled with lust. Until the bra. He fumbles with the clasp, so you take over. Buzzkill. It’s not as sexy as when Chuck takes off Blair’s bra in the back of a NYC cab.
But now you’re back in business. Aaaaannd he’s inside you.
The deed is done. And while the walk home was awkwardly quiet, what do you say now? Seriously though. What is there to say after sex?
These unanswered questions consume your still hazy mind, and you decide it’s probably best to get going.
“I should probably go home. I have class tomorrow morning.”
Phase 5: The Aftermath
Alarm #1: snoozed. Alarm #2: snoozed. Alarm #3: OMG OMG OMG I HAVE TO BE IN CLASS IN 10 MINUTES.
Panic.
You jump out of bed, throw on some clothes that are lying on the floor, and RUN to class. No time. No bra. You make it to Acwest just in time and burst through the doors in all of your glory – makeup from last night, questionable frat juice on your feet, and hair sticky with beer. And that’s when the boy sitting next to your empty seat looks oddly familiar. Do I know him???
And then it hits you. It’s the boy from last night. The boy that was literally just inside of you a few hours ago.
Well, shit.
Classic Thursday mornings.