She wears her anger proudly and marches over to Fall As with all my true stories, I use first names or nicknames as per request. If anything needs to be changed, please let me know. At least not yet. If you want to avoid the introspective bullshit that no one really cares about then skip all text in this shade of red, because it does not really pertain to the story nor will it be funny. The Story. Imagine this: You start making a little-tiny bit of money from writing and you decide to cash out on a new pair of beats. Armed with the recently released Apple Music service, you start jamming away while ignoring your friends and get lost in your own happy world.
You hit a dead zone. No fucking cell phone service, no music streaming, no GPS… nothing. The conversation repulses me. They both ignore me and finish talking about the all powerful Taylor Swift and her effect on relatively recent business conflicts involving Spotify.
Why would you do that?? Could you imagine getting lost in rural Georgia? At night? I am content. Besides, ultimately nothing matters. Yeah, we were, but shit happens. Webber or Nicole? Not specifically in that super male slut way or as others would describe as my freshmen year or SummerJohnny , but in a socialite type of way. S degree. I actually might have mistaken them for genuine human beings with complex never ending staircases of personal depth.
Now, on the hookup aspect of it all these girls are wonderful, fun, rebellious creatures. Especially, through it all, the only person I was thinking about was her. In the same way that I travel sometimes and compare the US to every destination. A winner. We exchange the address for my pick up location and I immediately send it to Nicole without a thought. You have definitely met her. She is sensitive about it. Will she be at dinner? I mean, everything at UGA is unreasonably giant.
I was drunk the night before and packed my bag in said condition. Hurry up! I cut my losses and toss my knife onto the floor board before following them into the building. Last pun, I swear. Plus, why did I even pack a knife? I swear I need to stop drunkenly packing my shit the night before.
Turns out, they were actually really cool. Fuck, she knows my name. We have met before and I am a horrible person. We met years ago at my fraternity party, but I have not retained any imagery of her. Who am I kidding, I forgot I put a snorkel in my backpack. We hug and I turn to introduce myself to her roommate. The conversation between all of us was super fun, at first. So what sucked? I started to be questioned about my promiscuous behavior over the past few months. Wow, now I look like even more douche-tastic. I might as well be wearing a flat bill and change my name to J-town.
Yet, they all laugh and look satisfied by my explanation. Almost as if saying my name as an excuse alleviates me of any guilt. The bright colors, the atmosphere of hope, and the ultimate naivety of what actually happens in college.
I could see myself kissing her on the futon, arguing in the doorway, and ultimately lying to myself about the validity of our relationship. Oh yeah, I forget, nothing matters so why am I being sentimental? She comes upstairs for a few minutes to say hi to the crew and then we leave to her place over in river club.
Side note: Before we all meet up, I get a call from Pam about the knife. I could NOT stop laughing. My bad, guys. I have very expensive taste so I immediately take a liking to the place. I love this choice for a birthday dinner… not because of the food, but because places like this have the top-shelf whiskey I love.
I look over to see if Pam is looking at me and she matches my eye contact, fuck. As they should. Pam glares at me and I try not to laugh. I have been calling her 'Pam's Sister' since we met. She just jokes along with me as if she is immune to my amazingness. This place is absolutely fucking amazing. It sits on top of downtown. Literally at some point there was just me and twenty girls. I need more troops for my manhood to survive. Who does she think I am? Nothing will stop me from conquering Athens, tonight.
John calls me to let him in the party. The moment we meet the smell of cheap rum hits my nostrils and I know that John and I are on the same page. I escort him into the party where everyone stares at us. I smile. John pours a blind amount of rum into two solo cups and hands me one. Both of us scream in success. Webber calls me to let him in. I greet Webber and his girlfriend, Sarah, into the party. We are all quickly immersed into this blissful atmosphere of alcoholic debauchery. Shots, pulls, and beer never went down so easy.
I think a big part of it was that I genuinely love partying with Moco. Remember I'm already drunk, ok? We start yelling and cursing, probably super audibly, for awhile. It hurt so fucking bad. John and I notice that most of the population has moved into this bedroom with an open door so we walk on in. How cute! They just stare at John and I as if we were dirt. I have officially become a spectacle.
John and I wander back into the living room and sit down next to each other on the floor bordered around a coffee table. This is where I start chugging my whiskey handle, religiously.
Yet, something is off. As if she has a core personality, but it morphs to accommodate whoever she is talking to. I still have no idea if she hates me or sees me as a friend. I end the conversation because tonight, and every night, is about alcohol… not about confusing young people. We become snapchat friends and I get up to rally everyone to head downtown. I finish the entire mL whiskey bottle, albeit I had a lot of help, but I finished that fucker and slammed it on the table.
Yeah, I know. The entire party crowd starts pouring out of the apartment.