Decade Of Excellence: Comedy Of Errors

Posted 11/08/2010 by smartblackboy in Labels: , , , , , , , , , , ,

I was not familiar with the concept of spooning, yet found myself one of four in a tangle of limbs on a futon that belonged to my roommate. It was my first night of college – I had met my roommate earlier that day, a football player (who shall be referred to as The Kicker), and a girl who I had chatted with on AIM over the summer, who would eventually become a cheerleader. I had invited her and her cute roommate (who eventually became an art history major) to come over to my room and hang out. Call it my first lesson in networking. I think it was my roommate who threw out that we should all spoon – what prompted this suggestion I have no idea. All I knew is that I was sandwiched between two really hot girls and I was a thousand miles away from home – trying my best not to get a boner.
I entered college completely straight edged: no sex, no drugs, and no alcohol. As a good Baptist boy from Dallas, TX who had gone to a very conservative Catholic all-boy school, I was painfully aware that I did not know much about girls. Don’t get me wrong, I had had my share of high school romances, first loves, broken hearts, and had even convinced a few awesome girls to make out with me. Yet girls my own age were not part of my daily routine, and suddenly I was expected to not only go to school with real women but live with them as well. As I counted down the days before shipping off to North Carolina, I found myself excited and a bit apprehensive. Everything I had read and viewed preached the mantra that college was supposed to be a crazy time where you experimented and did things that you would never do again – and a lot of those things were supposed to happen with girls. Yet, honestly I knew it had been a while since I had even kissed a girl, and was feeling a little unsure of myself in that department. Fortunately, the night before I left, my best female friend gave me a going away kiss and that small gesture injected a Texas load of confidence as I traveled to North Carolina.
My first few months in college I was a hornball. Hell, I still may be one. One of my most memorable moments actually stretched over four years. I don’t know how I met Chocolate Milk Girl. I was prone to walk around random dormitory halls in my effort to meet people and make friends. However, I quickly remember that we hit it off, and she definitely liked me. Chocolate Milk Girl’s dorm room had a wonderful view of the courtyard from the second floor, and her bed was supremely soft and comfortable. Her sexually adventurous roommate was often gone on weekend nights, so Chocolate Milk Girl and I would lie in her bed, make out some, and then watch drunk people walk across the courtyard and engage in loud conversations with them. I can’t begin to express how much fun I had doing this. I didn’t particularly like Chocolate Milk Girl, but I loved her view and fooling around was a small price to pay. One night Chocolate Milk Girl saw me wandering the halls and pulled me into her room to pounce. I immediately noticed that her breath was not pleasant. I stop kissing her and she looks up at me and asks “what’s wrong”. I reply, deadpan, and probably making my signature ‘I am really confused right now and you may be retarded’ face, “your breath”. I then fish through my pocket, find a breath mint, give it to her, and once she takes it, resume making out with her.
Now this particular encounter did not register at all for me. In my linear mind I recognized a problem, her foul breath, and came up with a solution, breath mint, to continue the scheduled activity – hooking up and then yelling at people we knew in the courtyard. Apparently this encounter completely shattered Chocolate Milk Girl’s confidence for many years. We would start talking again late in our senior year and she told me that she was always really self-conscious about her breath from then on. The funny thing is that it was a completely one time affair. The culprit was that she had drunk some chocolate milk before we had started to hook up, and that was that. I didn’t hold it against her, however, in retrospect, I can see how she might have thought I did. Unfortunately, other situations outside of my control led me to break it off with Chocolate Milk Girl the next week, namely I had met the love of my life and had decided to date her, exclusively – great view be damned.
Needless to say CMG was not too thrilled to hear that our three week courtyard watching party was over. To be fair I really did debate for a while whether giving up a Really comfortable bed and a Really Really great view was worth the chance to date the love of my life. About a month later I had to call Chocolate Milk Girl and had a conversation that initially scared the beejezus out of her.
Me: “Hey Chocolate Milk Girl, how’s it going?
CMG: “It’s going fine. What’s up?”
Me: “Remember how we were hooking up a few weeks ago?”
CMG: “Yeah”
Me: “Well, I caught something, and I think you should be tested.”
The awkward pause was priceless. I probably should have told her straight up that I had mono, and not AIDS or herpes or something crazy like that, but anyone who knows me well is aware that I enjoy being cryptically vague and have an odd flair for subtle theatrics. Again, the pause was worth it, but I felt bad about using her for her room and then suddenly breaking it off. I felt bad for scaring her over getting mono (which she thankfully did not contract). I felt really bad about the whole breath mint thing, and felt even worse that I had totally forgot it happened and it had ruined her life. One must understand that Chocolate Milk Girl was actually fairly pretty, really intelligent, laid back, nice, and fun – there wasn’t actually anything wrong with her. So, I really wanted to redeem myself and my youthful mistakes and do right by her. We had just a month of school left when I finally got my chance.
CMG and I had been flirting up a storm. We reconnected at her eating house formal after our respective dates vanished to entertain more pressing priorities. Tension grew over late nights in the computer lab trying to finish our major thesis papers; I wasn’t surprised to find us back at her apartment one Saturday night, where I gave the poor girl the worst hickey of her life -- it was like a group of vampires decided to have an orgy on her neck. To make matters worse, she had to present her thesis to her class that Monday and had to wear a turtleneck in May. She officially hated me and we never talked again. I would like to think that I am not the worst thing that ever happened to her, but I probably am. Sometimes bad things do really happen to good people. If you are reading this Chocolate Milk Girl, I am sorry for everything, I always thought you were awesome, and if we ever meet again, remember the third time’s a charm

3 comment(s) to... “Decade Of Excellence: Comedy Of Errors”


Anonymous said...

Women mature much faster than men, this proves to be more and more evident every single day.

Anonymous said...

"Apparently this encounter [completely shattered Chocolate Milk Girl’s confidence for many years.] We would start talking again late in our senior year and she told me that she was always [really self-conscious] about her breath from then on. [The funny thing is] that it was a completely one time affair."

The funny thing is that there's nothing actually funny about shattering a person's self-esteem.

smartblackboy said...

Women do not mature faster than men.

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