Despite all my Ben Roethlisberger ‘sexual predator/rapist’ themed tweets and jokes recently (and yes, I do believe karma served him an entrée dinner last night), I do not take those types of allegations lightly. So, I am not going to accuse you of sexually assaulting me, but I think it might have been as close to a Law & Order SVU type crime I’ve ever been a part of.
As per usual in my early 20′s, during a night off at summer camp, I was not sober/drunk/shitfaced/inebriated and probably a teeny bit stoned as well. As per usual, there were about twenty other kids my age (half male/half female) in more or less the same exact state. As per usual, we had rented out a 2 bedroom condo that could sleep about 25% of the attendees, so needless to say there was lots of forced spooning and floor sleeping…and since I’d rather spoon with anyone than sleep on the floor, you and I ended up in a twin bed together. It’s not as if you were bad-looking or anything like that, it’s just that when sober, I found you incredibly annoying and immature. Of course, you were 18 years old and had not yet spent a semester at college, so pretty much par for the course. Oh, and it’s not as if I was way older than you, I was not even 21 yet, but I’ve always been mature (as I’m sure my other letters portray).
Anyway, I had no interest in hooking up with you, which I thought I made clear by shifting my position in the bed so I was not facing you, and passed out. This has been, by the way, my biggest issue when it comes to making out (and by making out, I mean getting laid). I have standards, and those standards involve more than just a pretty face or a hot body. If your personality sucks, chances are I have no interest in hooking up with you, I just (un)fortunately missed out on that DNA (un = my ‘head’, fortunately = my head…get it?).
I thought I had accomplished my goal when I started to dream…only problem was my dream involved us making out and your hand slowly moving from my chest downwards. Then I came too (read: I woke up, get your mind out of the effing gutter), and guess what? We were making out and your hand was at my belly button. Well, I’m only human so I kind of got into it. Unfortunately for myself, and probably more for your ego, the other thing that started to happen was the tequila shots from a few hours before starting to resurrect themselves in my esophagus. I blustered out a, “one sec…I need to run to the bathroom,’ hoping you’d think I just needed to take a leak…but there is no way you didn’t hear my wretching.
Bottom line is this, I want to state for the record that A. I was not puking at the idea of hooking up with you B. While you didn’t sexually assault me, I feel like Benson & Stabler would’ve successfully forced a confession out of you on Law & Order: SVU, and finally, C. I totally understand why you didn’t let me back into the bed.
Even though I brushed my teeth after I was done vomiting.
*Law & Order: Special Victims Unit