One hypothesis about the universe is that it is infinite. In an infinite universe, any possibilities are possible. Nothing can truly be considered impossible. College is the same way. On a typical night out, very improbable and completely ridiculous things will happen; the average college freshman will give a scratch of the head and a “wow, what are the chances of that?” As time passes, these seemingly impossible encounters and situations will become more normal and natural. In this story, which took place over a single night, so many wild things happened that even I had to question if I was hallucinating them. Welcome to the American college campus; anything is possible.
It's another typical friday night. Karl and I head out to try to get some pussy. We have plans to hit up a random house party. We'd been to the house last year; all I really remembered about it was that it was completely out of control. I'm pretty pumped for it. I had gone out earlier and bought some new clothes, worked out that evening, and grinded a bunch of hands well. We're walking to the party, pausing only occasionally to crack open new beers, when I see something staked into the ground in the distance. Walking up, there's a sign that says “FREE RACCOON” and a dead raccoon laying in the grass by the street. For being roadkill it looks pretty clean and blood-free. Still, it's ****in gross.
We get to the party far too early. It's only 10:30 and it's real dead. We go camp the bar for a few minutes until it starts to fill up. A few more shots and a couple bull**** conversations later, there are definitely more people and a few good looking girls. Still, real lacking.
I have this game I play when parties are real terrible. I try to find the most socially awkward guy at the party, act like I want to be his friend, convince him that a specific girl is giving him the “**** me” look, and then score with said girl right in front of his face. The thought of crushing the hopes of douchbags and posers is what really gets my adrenaline flowing.
I spot this complete toolbag leaning against the wall, sipping on his light beer. One look at this ****** and I knew that I HAD to **** with him. He was wearing a mandana, wife beater, and a gold chain with an engraved dogtag of Tupac's face.
Me- “What's a cool guy like you doing at a party like this?”
He's excited that I approached him, obviously i'm the first person to talk to him tonight.
Wannabe K-Fed -“Man, man, just gotta play the game you know? so many hotties up in hurr”
There are a few girls on the dance floor, mostly ugly, i look back at him.
Me- “yeah man, real prime. Listen- as i've been talking to you, i've been using my peripherals to note that homegirl is checkin you out.”
“Really?”
his voice cracks slightly, but I pretend not to notice. “What homegirl? The one in the blue shirt?”
Me- “Yeah bro, this is your chance. You really should just go over there, flex to assert your dominance, and grind that pussy into the ground. Yer in man. Yer in that pussy.”
K-fed lets out an audible gasp, as if this is the girl he's been wanting to bang his entire life. I wish him luck and head back to the bar to grab another drink. The bartender is visibly ****ed up at this point and locks eyes with me as he's pouring me a mixed drink. The result is the strongest rum+coke i've ever had. Much more rum than coke.
I hide in the shadows and watch K-fed approach the girl. She starts dancing with him and then does a double-take. I watch her pull away from his grasp for a second, and then consents and starts dancing with him. I head out on the dance floor and start dancing with a girl next to her, making sure that K-fed's girl sees me. I catch her eye and we maintain contact just long enough for it to be uncomfortable. She looks away.