I don’t think I was ever much of a college party kind of guy, even in college. At least, not the frat party kind of guy, but a girl I’d recently been in contact with from my alma mater told me about an alumni frat thing, and begged me to go to it. If there is nothing else MLK day is good for, it’s an inappropriate Sunday party at a predominately Caucasian school So, I took the long train ride home prepping with a flask of Jameson. After the train and the cab I stepped onto all familiar pavement. I walked around the campus a little bit, trying to re-adjust, and get my bearings.
Eventually my phone rang and it was Jamie, calling me to tell me she was right behind me, in a general faux stalker-kind of way. I laughed and we were back in a cab to the Frat house. I almost immediately regretted this decision, bout I powered through. Five bucks and a wrist band gave me an excuse to go back to my college days.
Only, I didn’t like keggers in my college days. You meet the worst girls at keggers, and you meet the guys you don’t want to be stuck with. I found a corner and hid until a girl I later learned to be named Faith drunkenly grabbed me and tried to get me to dance. I shook my head. She asked what I did do, and I told her I was a pretty good shot in beer pong. But the fact of the matter is, much like friendship and fucking, you only make good partners with some people, and we got our asses handed to us. Faith cupped my face in consolement, and tried to kiss me, and this is when it hit me that I hadn’t seen Jamie in more than a while, and I dreaded why. Sure enough, she was off playing with some boy toy for the evening, and I was strained alone with Faith and losing hope. I grabbed another cup out of the keg of PBR…a college staple. But a few beers, and being corned, and bad judgement set it, and I spent a good two minutes with my hand on the small of her back, and kisses I couldn’t take back. Luckily, I was shortly rescued, and passed out on the foot of the bed in a Hilton shortly thereafter.
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