The satellite house was about five minutes away, enough time for Hot Mess Bess to encourage a few shots of Fireball on all the passengers. We arrive to hoots and hollers from my brothers and hugs from Patricia’s sisters, including Porky herself. The night goes on in typical fashion: I drink more beer than I can count, I chase tail with my brothers, and I snag several pictures with girls who think the fish on my shower curtain is Nemo. In typical fashion, all of her sorority sisters seek to solace her unhappiness by listening to her problems. Within moments, all of her sisters start petitioning my brothers to encourage me to kiss Porky.
I had a few brothers come up to me in private, trying to be gentlemen. I was so drunk I couldn’t tell you how many fingers I had but I knew enough to refuse each request. Soon, one loose-lipped strumpet found one of my brothers, Aussie, who has a habit of shouting when he’s drunk. Needless to say, he starts shouting at me from across the back patio. KISS HER!” Next, several of my brothers join in with the shouting, then some of her sisters. Before you know it, the entire party, DJ included, has taken up the chant of “Kiss her! I could sacrifice my integrity by either kissing a girl who weighed three stone more than I do or by not giving the people what they want. With my BAC approaching my GPA and being the entertainer I am, I gave the people a show.
I kissed her and smacked her ass to applause from people on the roof and muted sounds of revulsion from the few sober drivers still around. Having accomplished the unthinkable, I kept drinking, partly to wash away the taste, partly to wash away the memory. Patricia drives me home later that night and I am oblivious to her advances. Actually, I’m oblivious to everything besides my beer, but more on that another time. I get to my room and start on the 6-pack waiting for me in my fridge when I hear knocking on my door. Worried that this may be one of my residents — I was an RA at the time and I happened to be on call for the evening — I rushed to the door. It was Porky, who I now remembered was also an RA and so had access to every building. I knew in my heart this was bad but I figured I could be boring enough to make her go away shortly. She allowed herself in, so I sat on the couch, pulled my beer in tight and put on the Discovery Channel. Not 10 seconds later her hand shoots down my pants. I tried the whole “slow down, I’m not ready for fooling around” thing, to which she whispered, “It’s okay, I wasn’t ready either. But you showed me that it’s not about waiting until you’re ready; it’s about seizing the moment,” forcefully grabbing Little Richard on the word “seizing.” Aghast at how this evening was ending, I had a shocked look on my face, clearly misread by my “companion” who thought I was enjoying myself. She started pulling off my pants and gave Little Richard a lick. Afraid of the word “seizing” coming up again, I convulsed and started protesting. “I…” She shushed me and said, “I thought you might like that,” and proceeded to go about her business. At this point everything in my body was going absolutely haywire, trying to tell me to run for the hills. In reality, there is no such thing as drunken clarity, but with our clouded judgment, we feel extremely philosophical and proceed to ponder. The angel on my shoulder was unconscious with alcohol poisoning and the devil was telling me that everything would be okay. Second, this is Robbie’s sister and this is a total power move on your VP. I only had to think of the sweet appearance of kitchen appliances and I was ready to go 16 rounds with Floyd Mayweather punching me in the face. I figured I might as well have a little bit of fun with it, so I pulled every weird position I could remember from that “LAYLA RIVERA TIGHT BODY” video.
Less drunk than I was last night, I was mortified at my memory of the event. I shooed her out, coming up with some excuse about a staff meeting and ran into the shower, hoping to scald off every remnant of that evening. Finishing my shower, I finished the beer remaining in my fridge, trying to console my ego. I heard knocking on the door again and my hair stood on end like that of a frightened animal. I eventually brought myself to answer the door, and this time it was my residents in the room next to mine. I mean you did have someone over, right?” I looked at them with the crazy eye. There was nobody over last night,” and shut the door. Things we can all learn from an event like this: 1. We learn from our mistakes, namely there are some sex positions that big girls don’t excel at. Also, one day you will learn to cope with your mistakes.
I look back on this with honor, considering myself a Captain Ahab, having succumbed to the Great White Whale.