Oh College. I was pretty much drunk for four years straight. I was typically always in a serious relationship while in school so never really dated or hooked up with rando’s like all the other slore’s. I would just get hammered, dance by myself, then creep off and pass out in the corner.
Normal college girls:
My roommates liked to spend all this time getting ready and shit, and I couldn’t have cared less. The way I looked at it was 1- any guy you meet in college is most likely going to be so black out that you don’t even need to have a face to get him in bed and 2- every minute you spend on another outfit or redoing your hair, I’m drinking all the vodka.
Panama City. Spring Break. My senior year. I could probably just stop there because you can tell where this is going. Our first night there I didn’t even make it out. I got so drunk while we were getting ready that I fell asleep on the outdoor balcony and woke up with two non-lit cigarettes in my mouth, a bottle of sprite and band-aids all over my face.
Night two: I had been single for all of 20 minutes and was ready to party. Everyone was getting ready and I was all like…
We went to a bar to meet some other people from our school that had also made the trip down. My last memory was walking to the bar across the street and throwing my shoes at a cab. One thing lead to another and the next thing I know, I’m waking up next to the kid from my statistics class that was missing his left arm.
Holy shit. I hooked up with the kid that only has one arm.
I immediately ran into the other room where my roommates were sleeping and asked them what the hell happened and how did I end up taking home the kid with one arm!?
Well he somehow managed to use his good arm to sneak out of our condo before I could return and ask him what his name was and how he lost a limb. The remainder of my senior year I was teased repeatedly by my roommates for this unfortunate instance.
That was until the week before graduation when we threw a giant party that pretty much the entire school came to. A guy comes up to me and says, “Jenny! Hey, wow I haven’t seen you since Panama City!”
Who the fuck is this?
I looked into his eyes and saw my past. It was like a drunk, fucked up crystal ball. THIS is the guy I woke up next to in Panama City! My response to his introduction of “Remember me? We met in Florida over spring break…”
Me: OMG! YOU HAVE TWO ARMS!
Him: You thought I was that kid in our statistics class that only has one arm, didn’t you?
Sooo long story short, I thought I hooked up with a guy that only had one arm, but he actually had two…he did weirdly look a lot like that one armed kid, though.
One Arm and I ended up becoming pretty good friends and we’ve stayed in touch over the years. I really do call him One Arm, like to his face.
Also, one time in Southie while I was drunk and wondering the streets alone (not much has changed since college) I saw the REAL One Arm! I immediately called the fake One Arm and told him.
He didn’t think it was funny.
Also, I went to his beach house once and he accidentally peed on me. Things got weird after that and I haven’t really seen him since.
Owell – at least I didn’t hook up with an amputee.
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