Every time I close my eyes, I’m reminded of the most disappointing night of my life.
Three years ago, I was a bottle of wine and a butter chicken deep and decided that it would be the night I finally got some. I was on a mission, so I downloaded Tinder and managed to snag one with a missing a tooth. But that wasn’t gonna stop me.
We got to his flat, and he hoisted me up to the fire escape so I could scale the building and climb in through his window. I took one step in, and knocked all the open cans off his night stand causing him to tell me off (kinky). He tried to set the mood by showing me his record collection and put on Sticky Fingers (which I had to pretend to know and love), followed by him offering to give me a stick and poke of my mum's name in a heart. I was not drunk enough for that. To further set the mood he decided to put on a fan favourite: Gossip Girl.
After this riveting foreplay, we finally headed to the bed and you can guess what happened: one mediocre minute of my life that I'll never get back and my favourite TV show ruined.
Now that I had done what I came to do, it was time for a swift getaway. But first, where was my vape?! I was naked and vulnerable, on my hands and knees searching this man’s apartment for my ten-dollar strawberry watermelon disposable and finally found it in a pile of my clothes.
After not-so-quietly leaving his room, I floated out the fire escape and fleeing home with my newly stained jeans, leaving behind my innocence and, honestly, my self-respect too.
I woke up the next morning to a knock on my door from my RA telling me I had to meet with the warden of my hall. Apparently, I had put everyone’s safety in danger by trying to bring my hook-up to my room. I’d thought I could finally put this night behind me, but it still haunts me to this day.
Editor’s Note: Yikes. See letters to the editor this week.