Party, Frat Style (Part 4)
Posted on May 5, 2010[Continued from "Party, Frat Style (Part 3)."]
I wanted very desperately to go home. I was in no condition to ride my scooter home. My boyfriend wasn’t scheduled to get off work until 2am. I was stuck for several hours.
Once on the frat house’s first floor I found a vacant couch and sat down. The room stopped spinning for a bit. However, I did not have control of my head. It bobbed around baby-like and finally came to a rest on the back of the couch. Had I opened my eyes I would have been staring at the ceiling. I did not open my eyes, though, until someone sat down next to me.
I still couldn’t hold my head up so I rolled it to the side to bring my couch mate into my field of vision. It was a guy. He began talking to me. Obviously he didn’t think my conversational skills were important because he continued to talk to me despite my lack of coherent response. The guy kept scooting closer to me, too.
Even in my blotto state I could tell the guy was hitting on me. I could also tell that I was most definitely not interested. Back in college when the Ex and I were living together, before we got married, I didn’t cheat on him, not even in my mind. I had no interest in anyone other than the Ex. Who was, of course not yet the Ex.
I had to get away from the guy on the couch. I checked my watch. I still had a long time before I could call home and actually reach my boyfriend. This was before everyone had cell phones, which is why I was both wearing a watch and had to wait until the Ex got home to call him. I gathered my strength, balanced myself, and got off the couch. I didn’t bother to politely excuse myself; I just walked away. Well, I probably stumbled away.
I was afraid to sit down anywhere for fear I’d be called upon to carry on a conversation. I had some time to kill before I could call home. I walked up to the house’s second floor.
The second floor consisted of bedrooms and communal bathrooms. Each of the bedrooms had a locked door and its own phone line. In my drunken/stoned stupor I knocked on every door I encountered. Most of the doors went unanswered. I think I even knocked on a bathroom door. Finally, someone answered his door. They were all guys, it was a frat house.
He let me in his room. I don’t know if the guy thought he might have had a chance with me, but as soon as I told him I needed to use his phone to call my boyfriend he resigned himself to playing video games while I called home. Or maybe I called the Emeryville Trader Joe’s and asked to have the Ex paged. I was desperate to talk to him so he could pick me up as soon as was humanly possible.
I called. I talked to the Ex. He was on his way. I left the house and sat on the curb near my scooter. I sat there for quite some time. I did not, however, puke. Eventually the Ex picked me up and I explained the evening’s sequence of events.
The next day, after I slept off my drunk, I took some sort of public transportation into Berkeley to retrieve my scooter. I took the scooter ride of shame home to my cute Oakland apartment I shared with my boyfriend.
One frat party is enough.
I swear. True story.
Tags: booze, manners, phone sex, sexy?
Categories: True Story.
[...] [To be continued ….] [...]
29.08.2010 20:11