Sunday, October 31, 2010


I need to talk about this because it is eating me up inside to the point where I'm actually nauseous. I am so ashamed of myself.

I visited Babs for Halloween weekend in her college town. The roommate and I woke up at 4 in the friggin morning to get there in time to tailgate for a football game. I immediately started drinking in the parking lot of the grocery store because as we're packing the cooler a beer hit a jagged piece of ice and started spurting the sweet nectar everywhere. I shotgunned the bad boy and the drinking commences. I had mimosas, beer, tequila, lynchberg lemonades, vodka, coke and rum... you name it, I had it. I also, intelligently, did not eat one damn thing that day. It is honest to God amazing that I didn't piss myself because I was trapped in panty hose and a leotard. As Jim Gaffigan puts it, "I make a hot cat woman." Then blackoutsville. At one point I'm dancing in the crowded bar, getting drinks handed to me left and right, the next... I'm in some strange guy's bed. Naked. Making out. Attempting to have sex, even though I'm clearly on my period and have a cork in my vag.

What the fuck.

I pass out and end up coming to to the sound of knocking. Homeboy gets up and answers the door and comes back, startled, "Uh, the cops are looking for you." I hop up out of bed. "What?"

My friends filed a missing persons report. I called the Roommate, who answers, peeved, "Where the hell are you? We've been worried sick!" I ask the dude where I'm at and he tells me, where I reiterate it to her shamefully. After I hung up the phone I got a good look at the dude and exclaimed, "Dear God." As Jersey Shore kindly puts it, I jumped on a grenade. I'm starting to get sick with myself. I feel dirty and shameful and I can't believe that I did this. I put my clothes on and try to skiddadle on out of there when the guy's phone rings and... it's my parents. They traveled an hour and a half to go looking for me. I tell them I'll meet them outside but they are adamant about going up to the door and having a talk with the guy. Apparently, they were the ones that knocked on the door saying that they were looking for me. Homeboy lied to them about me being there. They didn't take to kindly to that. He's starting to freak out, "How old are you?" "12." He didn't find the humor in this statement. "Relax dude, I'm 21." He sighs. "What's your name?" "That's not necessary. I really just want to forget this whole thing happened."

I walk out the door and my parents are outside. They try to walk in. I'm begging them to just go. Please, dear God can we get me as far away from this place as possible. I get in the car and they tell me how the Roommate and Babs called them at 3 in the morning in tears because they couldn't find me. Telling them that the last place they saw me was leaving with some dude. I apparently followed a guy back to his apartment where a party was commencing. I ended upstairs in a different apartment with the grenade.

I get home and the parents' phone rings. It's the grenade checking up on me. Making sure I was alright. Telling me that I just walked up into his apartment and into his bed. How I got naked. How he's sorry he took advantage of me. How he thinks someone probably ruffied me when I was at the bar. I tell him thanks for calling. He says if I'm even in his town hit him up. Yeah right.

I've been crying on and off today because of the shame. I can't believe I allowed a dude to do that, and without protection, and with a cork inside. I feel dirty. I don't know what to do. It's going to take me awhile to recover from this.


  1. this is amazing. don't feel too ashamed, just eat next time!

  2. At least you had the cork. Menstruating makes all the rational things we somehow find the ability to do on every other day of the month seem impossible. Being a girl blows sometimes.

  3. Ahhh the beauty of alcohol and depths it allows us to slump to. Oh live, you learn.

  4. That really blows. I'm sorry.

  5. Sorry, but that was one of the funniest things I read in a while. We have all been there. Beer goggles are handy when picking up grenades. Try to leave them at home.