This really isn't erotic but it does have to do with a hookup I had. It's mean't to be funny. I was just curious for feedback pertaining to my writing style.
Around Christmas one year, I had to do some last minute shopping for my brother and father. Naturally, I decided to knock out my shopping with only two days to spare. So, as soon as I got off work, I headed to this small “outlet mall” about forty-five minutes away.
Living in rural West Virginia, this was sadly the closest place to do any sort of shopping.
That is, unless I wanted to score some serious brownie points by showing up with gifts from Family Dollar or Rite-Aid.
But, I digress. On my way there, I got a text from a gentleman caller claiming to be the in same general vicinity and inquired if I’d like to grab dinner. Being the food connoisseur I am, we settled on Shoney’s. I somehow managed to make it through the entire meal without letting my awkward, crazy, shine through. He, being a true gentleman, paid the bill and we went on our separate ways.
Of course, not paying attention to the time or taking into consideration it was Sunday; most of the stores had closed by the time we had finished. With my tail between my legs and slightly irritated, I decided to make my way back home.
Upon arrival, I noticed I had a text from him. We then exchanged the quintessential sentiments stating how great of a time we each had, coupled with our impending boredom for the night. It was soon settled he’d come over, we’d watch a movie, and have a few drinks.
Sadly, I didn’t think this plan through very well. My two other roommates had already moved out. There was no DVD player and the cable had already been canceled. Being the trashy college student I was, suggested we play a riotous game of beer pong.
Of course, there was a problem with this plan too. There was no longer a kitchen table in the house either. Thanks, roomie! I was faced with a very crucial decision to make. We either awkwardly sit there, telling our life stories, attempting to feign interest in each other, or I pull out some serious MacGyver shit.
What did I do, you ask? Some serious MacGyver shit! I fashioned a beer-pong table out of dog cage, book shelf, and a set of pissed-on box springs. Marveling in my own ingenuity, we proceeded into a night of drunken debauchery.
Now, let it be known, this is the same guy who had been telling me for weeks now that he “doesn’t hook up”. (Cue Kelly Clarkson reference) Imagine my surprise when he turned the tables on me by suggesting we play “strip beer-pong” instead.
I closely examined his facial features in an attempt to figure out if he was sincere or merely playing some cruel joke. After flashing me a deviously, coy smile, it was apparent this was no trick and I hesitantly agreed.
Again, I didn’t think this plan through very well. Had I stepped back for a moment and thought about it, I would have realized I’m the world’s worst beer-pong player and this wasn’t going to end well in my favor. Before I knew it, I was awkwardly standing in my underwear while he had removed nothing but a shoe.
I had to think quickly. How was I going to even the playing field? In a moment of desperation, I decided to play the whole double-or-nothing card. I proposed that if I made the next cup, which was highly unlikely considering I hadn’t made one in about fifteen minutes, he would have to strip down naked. If I didn’t make it, I had to remove my underwear and remain naked for the rest of the night.
He paused for a moment to weigh the different possibilities of my proposition. After mauling over the terms for what seemed like an eternity, he flashed that same smile from before and reluctantly agreed.
By some grace of God, the ball flew through the air and landed straight in the middle cup. Being about a 12-pack of Bud Light in, I was no longer able to effectively mask my awkward tendencies. I began cheering like some sort of deranged soccer mom while breaking out some truly embarrassing dance moves. Realizing I may have gone a little overboard, I attempted to regain my composure and motioned for him to begin stripping down.
From here on, the night took a turn for the X-rated. After a myriad of biblically damning actions, we laid drunkenly in my bed talking. He told me of his true feelings and how I deserved so much more. He claimed that if I would choose him, he would treat me like a king. I’d want for nothing. We’d travel and he’d show me the world.
That was the moment I reached an all-time high level of awkwardness. Without missing a beat, I found myself singing lyrics from “A Whole New World” from Disney’s Alladin. I had intended to just sing the lyrics in my head as I so frequently do when they prove applicable to real life situations. However, there I was, drunkenly, belting out “I CAN SHOW YOU THE WORLD! SHINING SHIMMERING SPLENDID! PRINCESS TELL ME, NOW WHEN DID YOU LAST LET YOUR HEART DECIDE?”
Realizing what had just happened, I laid there mortified. There was no way to come back from that. Who does that? I slowly looked over at him to gauge his reaction. To my surprise, he had this weird look of adoration on his face. He then told me that was the cutest thing he’d ever witnessed.
In that moment, I knew. I knew with all my heart. I knew I had to get him the fuck out of here. There is only one thing worse than singing Disney songs after sex and that’s someone who thinks that’s perfectly acceptable. Sadly, I couldn’t in good conscious kick him out and expect him to drive with his current level of inebriation. So, I told him he was too sweet, gave him a quick kiss goodnight, and rolled the fuck over.
I didn’t wake up until like 5 P.M the next day and I’m unsure when he even left. All I knew was this was going to be one stage-five clinger that was going to be hard to shake.