It was alumni weekend my freshman year and my friend from high school decided to come up for a visit. Hoping to show her a typical Binghamton weekend, we took a cab to a frat downtown. It was also the night of Greek God, where each frat chooses their hottest member, makes him bulk up for about six months, slather him in fake tanner and thrust him upon a stage to be judged like a piece of meat - but it goes to charity so it's all good. The frat we went to that night had happened to win this antiquated tourney of brawn so needless to say, shit was bananas.
We immediately filled a pitcher and hopped on the beer pong table. We then played what felt like the longest game every against these horribly bitchy girls who could have been attractive if they didn't look so stupid. We ended up forfeiting because we couldn't take it anymore, and went to go mingle with some brothers. I don't know how it happened, but I ended up shit-faced, talking to anyone who would listen to me, sitting on the throne of the Greek God and demanding to be carried around. Unfortunately no one obliged, but I did find two poor suckers to give me and my friend piggy-back rides the full seven blocks to the bars even though we both had boyfriends at the time.
We got to the bars and before I know it, a group of men in their late 20s, early thirties are buying my friend shots. As the hostess, I decide at this point to be the responsible one and stop drinking. After being pushed and stepped on by people who were still upset they'd graduated two years ago, I decided to step outside for a breather. Luckily my friend is lucid enough to follow me and we overhear to guys saying that they wanted to go to the hookah bar around the corner. Neither of them were very attractive but the bars were overcrowded and it was too early to go back to the dorms. Naturally we invite ourselves and before you know it, we're seated in the "VIP Room," which in reality was an area divided by transparent curtains, drinking a pitcher of sangria. After waiting ten minutes for our hookah, the boy who had "claimed me" decided to check out what the deal was.
"Give me a kiss before I go," he said to me.
"I can't." I told him shrugging my shoulders apologetically.
"What do you mean you can't?" he asked tersely.
"I have a boyfriend, but I can kiss you on the cheek."
To say he looked angry would be an understatement. In a drunken attempt to deflect myself from this situation, I pointed to my friend, who was at the time nuzzling her face in her boy's neck and said, matter-of-factly, "She has a boyfriend too, but I don't think she's going to tell him that."
At which point, my guy leans over and says something to his friend who immediately stands up and walks to the front of the bar.
Unaware what was going on, I sit back down next to my friend and continue to wait for our hookah. Nearly passed out on the couch, another boy comes to sit with us. His name is "Dan" and apparently he and my friend exchanged numbers at the first bar. As they chat it up, I try not to cock-block. However, this noble act is thwarted when my stomach begins to gurgle and I turn to my friend,
"I really don't feel well."
"Do you want me to come with you to the bathroom?"
After I realize that nothing is coming up, I hit a wall.
"Can we just go back now?"
My friend smiled a slightly devilish smile which I did not understand at the time, "Should we?"
"Yeah"
We hopped into a cab filled with rambunctious rugby players, went to my dorm and promptly passed out. The next morning, I wake up to my friend muttering, "Oh Shit."
"What's wrong?"
"Look," she said as she passed over her phone.
It was a text, from her friend Dan which read - FUCK YOU!
It took me a while to register why he would send such a text but I wouldn't be surprised if a lightbulb went off above my head..,
"OH MY GOD! Did we leave him with the bill?"
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