The craziest night of my life (thus far)

Or, How I ruined my gf’s best friend’s 21st

(This story has been told before in distant, forgotten domains. If you recognize it, thanks for sticking around. Some minor details altered, added after my ex recently filled me in on some things I didn’t even remember happening)

It was the eve of my then-girlfriend’s roommate/best friend’s 21st. The guest list was pretty extensive, and it was looking like this party had some real potential. Highly anticipated.

Irish and I are making the liquor store rounds mid-day when my girlfriend calls me up. She asks me to grab her some UV girly shit for her, which I do, and then proceeds to tell me that one of the girls from the other half of the duplex will be attending tonight, and she begs me not to make a scene.

The issue: This chick (we’ll call her Betty) is the scourge of the universe. The biggest bitch I and anyone else who has ever encountered her have ever had the misfortune of knowing.  That she is fat and ugly just makes it worse. Satan’s failed abortion. She lived on their floor in the dorm days and had managed to ingratiate herself with a couple of the girls, and out of pity they didn’t turn her down when she asked to live with their group in the duplex.

Recently, she had taken to spreading some nasty rumors and the assorted about my girlfriend, which I naturally didn’t take too khiiinely to. My gf is very confrontation averse and had been letting it slide. No one believed the bitch anyway, but that didn’t matter to me, and I didn’t like how she didn’t do anything about it. Nonetheless, I agree to stay away from her and keep the peace.

After grabbing a handle of Admiral and a few 2 liters of Coke to split, we decide to head over early and begin.

For awhile, it’s just us, a few other dudes, and the girls, sans Betty. Hanging around, playing some drinking games, and enjoying the fine summer weather. The Admirals, well, they are flowing. A picture taken around 7 shows me and Irish with a handle that is already past half gone. Ominous.

Soon enough, people start filing in. Fast. Before long the house is full, and I’m downstairs playing flip cup with my god damn dirty drink. A terrible idea. Rounds go by, wins, losses, it doesn’t matter. I’m very hammered.

An indeterminable amount of time passes before I decide I need a refill. I turn away from the table and that’s when I see her. Ole’ Betts is chillin in the corner talking to one of the other roommate chicks and some random dude I didn’t know. Friends know I routinely reneged on behavioral “guarantees” to my ex, and by god if I was going to pass up this opportunity now.

You see, I was privy to a certain piece of very juicy information via my gf that I had swore I would never reveal. Ugly Betty over there had banged two different dudes the previous two weekends. The scandal: Her two roomates had each banged those dudes the two weekends before she did. So in addition to terrible judgment by these fuckin guys, Betty was deeply ashamed she had come in third place, twice, by guys that had also high tailed it out the next morning. What little soul she had had been crushed by the experience, and it weighed heavily upon her self-worth.

I walk up with the most mischievous Cheshire grin I think I have ever had the pleasure of flashing, addressing the group.

“Hey you know what I was thinking…”

Pleasantries, skipped. They turn towards the interrupter, rapt with attention.

“What do you think is worse, or should I say, which would you rather be-”

I turn to the dude, and then the other roomate chick.

“Would you rather be someone’s sloppy seconds, or someone’s sloppy thirds?”

At “thirds” I look straight at Ole’ Betts. Her face goes bright red. Oblivious to the now-enjoined battle, the other two respond.

Dude: “Well sloppy seconds, I guess.”

Chick: “Yeah sloppy thirds would be terrible”

I look straight at Betty: “No shit, that shit’s fucking disgusting.”

She stammers. There is steam coming out of her ears. Finally, she comes at me, jabbing a finger at my chest, and explodes. I say nothing, smiling the whole time. After a few minutes, she storms off, doing a lap around the basement.

I remember my empty cup, and begin to head upstairs when one the greatest ideas ever dawns on me…

At the top of the stairs I turn back, unbuckling my belt and undoing my zipper.

“HEY BETTY!” My voice booms throughout the basement.

All eyes turn towards me. A hushed crowd awaits, Betty turns.

I whip out my dick, and my balls.

“SUCK MY DICK, BITCH!”

Nothing happens for a few seconds. No one believes what has just happened. People look back and forth. The lull is snapped as a distraught Betty sprints up the stairs and rushes past me, god knows where to. Mission accomplished. I refill my drink and head back down. While not knowing my motivations, everyone thinks it’s hilarious. Lulz abound, flip cup resumes.

Meanwhile, Betty, correctly pinpointing my source of information, tries to attack my girlfriend upstairs. Irish’s then-gf kicks her ass out of the door, Ugly Betty calls reinforcements, and soon there are twenty some girls outside yelling at each other. Betty’s friends make a bum rush and are fended off by Irish’s gf once again.

Word travels downstairs, and I rush up to join in the chaos. There is a line of ten or so girls on each side, yelling and occasionally pushing each other. Girls in skirts falling down, showing puss and thongs. This shit’s hilarious. Some guys pull up chairs. I decide to add more fuel.

I go straight up to Ole’ Betts and start unloading my most extensive of vocabularies on her. Whore, cunt, fat ass bitch, jezebel, cunt, cum guzzling slut, whale, cunt- you name it, I called her it. And cunt.

The night breaks into mayhem as more of her back-up arrives. I am surrounded by her friends yelling at me and calling me everything in the book. My continuous laughter only spurs on their rage.  People are running around everywhere, no one has any idea what is going on. Irish is making out with some random chick up against a car, an island of sanity in this madness.

My girlfriend, as smart as she is, calls one of our good friends/my “sister” (Emily) to pick me up and get me out of here because Betty called the cops. She arrives, and they try to drag me into the car. I would have none of it, I was having too much fun. Finally, one of their roommate’s lineman of a brother stuffs me in. As we drive away, I fade to black, my last memory of cop cars whizzing past.

I wake up. My eyes stare at an alien ceiling. I’m laying on a couch, but god knows where. I fiddle around for my phone and bring it up. It’s four in the morning, where the hell am I. So drunk I can barely move. Oddly, my shirt is off. Examining my surroundings, it dawns on me that I’m at my Emily’s apartment.

Finally, I get the willpower to sit up. Holy shit.

On her knees, with her head resting on my crotch, is one of Emily’s roommates. Passed out. In only her bra.

What the fuck? Did I? Did we?

Emily appears, shocked. “FFY, WHAT THE HELL IS GOING ON!”

Words escape me. I don’t fucking know what is going on. Damn, her roommate looks even better undressed. I’m confused.

“What the fuck did you do!”

“I didn’t do shit. You guys brought me here, I don’t remember anything.”

“Why is [roommate] here, half naked!” Emily is hysterical.

“Does it look like I know why she is here? Jesus Christ, what the fuck I don’t know.”

“Did you guys do anything?”

“No, fuck you.” Like I would know anyway. “Take me home. God I’m still drunk”

I get up. Roommate chick wakes up for a second, looks around, and then plops her head back down.

“If you did anything with her, so help me god. I will tell your girlfriend.”

“Relax. Nothing happened. Let’s go.”

She takes me back. The ride is dead quiet. Upon reaching my bed, I pass out for a solid twelve hours.

The cops busted the party, but thankfully no one got a ticket. I managed to apologize because I kind of felt bad. She didn’t really like me before, and liked me less afterwards.

Betty was shunned for the rest of the year. Dead to her roommates. She is still enrolled, living with tormenting new subjects now. We know them, and they chose not to heed our warnings. Suckers.

Irish got cock blocked by cops.

By the end of senior year I still had people buying me shots for that night. Curious women approached on occasion, wanting to hear the story from me.

Emily maintains that she heard commotion earlier in the night when her roommate got back, but didn’t think to check. Roommate chick is a slut and a hot mess; she, unsurprisingly, doesn’t remember anything either. Nobody will ever know what happened, which is too bad. Maybe I’ve got a mystery notch floating out in the ether.

Or maybe I was raped!