So it’s finals and everyone’s busy with a mass of papers, tests, and packing. My point is that I have nothing new or good to say…so I thought I’d tell a (in my mind) comedic story about one of my previous hookups at a school across the Cannon River that shall not be named. ?
So I met this guy in Blue Monday. We’ll call him Carl. As I frequent Blue Monday to study, I was perched in my usual spot in the comfy couches, studying. I happened to have a cold so I wasn’t exactly feeling attractive. He starts talking to me, asking what I’m studying. Now I’ll admit that I’m not above being wooed by hipster garb. If someone’s sporting an ironic t-shirt, some Nike’s and skinny jeans, I won’t say no.
In the course of our conversation, I learned that Carl’s from Connecticut and an art major. Check. So when it is time for us to part ways, we plan to meet up again for a coffee date in the near and distant future.?
We meet up and I’m nervous. I mean, after all he’s an art major. Woof. So we begin talking and he states that as a child, he was “raised on Surrealism.” That’s when I realized that Carl might not be such a worthy pursuit. But of course, I keep an open mind and indulge him in his desire to talk of Andre Breton and Un Chien Andalou, however obnoxious it may be.
On a drunken night, I end up on that-campus-not-to-be-named. Whoops, I wonder how that happened? I call him because of course; it’s only the polite thing to do if one happens to be in the vicinity of a recent date. We meet up and he takes me back to his room. Now of course, I’m not naïve enough to realize that ‘taking back to room’ is code in college for hooking up but I’m a girl with class so I decide while I’m in his room, I’ll browse Facebook.
After enough teasing, I figured we could make out. Why not? I mean, he’s good looking and I’m drunk so what is the harm? The lights are off, we’ve downed the drinks and the rhythms boom. Now, let me divulge by saying I was wearing a dress, allowing for easy access. So we’re making out and then suddenly I hear a rip and snap of plastic. He tries to go in for the kill but wait, I’m a lady and have a right to say no, which I loudly do. “Wait, you’re not into it? I don’t understand. That didn’t turn you on?”?
So that was the end of that date. All I really have to say is that men, making out does not directly lead to sex. As cute as you jamming your tongue down my throat is, I’m not turned on and I don’t find it cute.