Thursday, February 22, 2007

Let's Try This

Look in the Comments section


Blogger limpy99 said...

Maggie, who's over there on the right, posed this question on her blog. I figured I'd answer it here.

I went to an all-boys Catholic High School. No, this isn't the story of my break up with Father O'Fasthands. That actually went pretty smoothly, and paid for law school. No, I only mention that to lay the groundwork for my going to college and having the same experience with girls as your average 8th-grader, which is was the last time I'd spent any great deal of time around girls. And my time in the Boy Scouts didn't prepare me any better. -Make bad joke here-

My first year in college I lived in an all male dorm. Seeing a pattern here? Yeah me too, but this wasn't my fault. When I was signing up to go to UCONN, I had to pick where I wanted to live. At the time the basketball teams both sucked like Britney Spears trying to get an expensive haircut, (thought I'd never mention that didn't you?), and new students could actually pick which below fire-code dorm they wanted to live in. Now they just stick you wherever they can, although even though the state gave them about a billion dollars for renovations, they still can't figure out the fire code. I'm not kidding about that.

Naturally, I asked my father for advice. Who better than a guy who went to school there 30 years before and hadn't set foot on campus since? So he says, "The dorms on the east side were nice", and I check them off as my first preference. Good move. Turns out that in the THREE DECADES since dad had been there, these dorms had gone single-sex. And since everyone else knew that, I got my first choice. Hello to another semester of looking at women through binoculars.

Figuratively speaking, of course.

Eventually of course, I managed to figure out enough about women to speak with several, date a few less, and convince one to marry me. And that one was already a U.S. citizen thank you very much! But this isn’t about them. This is about breaking up, which is hard to do, even if you’re a doo-wop singer. There’s a song about it. You can look it up.

During the second semester, we had a “July in February” party. We turned up the heat in the rooms, put together an alcohol-based punch that could have probably fueled NASCAR vehicles, and invited the girls from the next dorm to come over. Later that night I would get my ear pierced for the first time. My friend Don dipped an earring of his own into a capful of whiskey, and then shoved it through my ear. Shockingly, it got infected.

Months later I would look back at that incident as the highlight of the night.

That night, I met Tammy. Which is not her real name. She was really attractive, and like me, a freshman. I had seen her checking me out in the cafeteria for months. But at the time I was far too stupid to realize that she was actually checking me out. I thought I just had food on my face.

I was a confident person in college.

But that night, we hooked up. And by hooked up I mean “sat next to each other and kissed good night.” With tongue! And if anyone’s reading this for salacious details, let me save you some time. Much like Meatloaf, this story ain’t going past third base. In fact, it wasn’t even that close. While Meatloaf at least gets thrown out in a close play at the plate, (all together now “Stop right there!!!” Before we go any further…”), I rounded third base, tripped over my own feet, fell face first into the coaches box, and was mercifully tagged out by the catcher while crawling forward.

But this isn’t about all the fun we had getting my fingers untangled from her bra. Nope. This is about her dumping my ass in a public and humiliating fashion, thereby earning herself the sworn hatred of pretty much anyone who was there to witness the scene, or anyone who heard about it, and pretty much anyone who read the classified ads I later took out to tell the entire campus what a bitch she was. OK, one of those things didn’t happen, but I’ll let you guess which one.

Every semester we had a semi-formal. We’d get dressed up, go to a rented hall, dance around and get drunk. By the time the semi-formal rolled around, Tammy on I were on thin ice. Actually, I was already in the water, since she’d dropped the “I want to see other people” line on me a couple of days earlier. You’d have to be a complete idiot not to see where this was going, and that going to the dance together would be a bad idea.

Unfortunately I was that idiot.

The night of the dance rolls around and Tammy shows up. Credit where credit is due, she looked great. Beautiful even. One of my more sensitive friends, who knew what was going on, came up to me and said, “you may as well jerk off now pal, because you’re not getting any later.” He was right, and I should have taken his advice. At the dance, we hung out, but as the night wore on I noticed that she really wasn’t around. And then we found out why.

She had hooked up with a guy wearing a tuxedo, sans jacket. The same guy who had just weeks before rammed an earring through my ear said “You got dumped for a waiter!?” I think I said “Fuck you”, but there wasn’t much of an argument to be had. Turned out he lived in our dorm on the first floor, and this was something that had been brewing for a week or so. One of my female friends volunteered to take Tammy into the girls room and come out alone a few minutes later. I laughed, then realized she wasn’t kidding. I said no, but every now and then, like when writing incredibly long and meandering posts, I wonder what would’ve happened had I said, “Yeah, sure, go for it” I suspect Tammy would’ve gone down faster than, well, uh

Well, a hell of a lot faster than she ever went down on me.

So that’s roughly it. While I’ve since had more serious relationships end badly and with more lingering effect, (like amateur taxidermy, but you’ll never prove that), the fact that this was the first girlfriend dumping me in public and in front of most of my friends, would make this the worst.

For those who like stories to have an ending, (as opposed to those of you just praying that this one actually DOES end), Tammy and her waiter stayed together for at least the next three years, and I think married after college. I became something of a popular person in all three dorms, and as a result they led kind of an isolated existence. I talked to her right before I left and wished her luck, and also apologized for any and all grief she’d taken from my friends over the years. As bad as her behavior was, she was 18 and immature, and I was 18 and too stupid to see the obvious. I hope they’re doing well even now, and remain happy together.

But I also hope she’s put on at least 73 pounds.

9:10 AM  
Blogger eclectic said...

I think it's nice of you to wish anything less than 75 lbs on her. 18 or not, everyone -- even my 13 year old -- knows that if you go to an event with someone, you leave with that same someone; and if you don't, you're an ass. Although, to be clear, in my daughter's case, she must leave with that same someone AND whichever one of her parents has been holding her hand all evening.

1:56 PM  
Blogger JD's Rose said...

I'm so glad that you put that last line in there. I thought I was going to have to line you up with Tammy when I scratched her eyes out, but not needed.

Why is it in the comments section though?


2:23 PM  
Blogger The Recovering Straight Girl said...

That was THE longest comment I have EVER read.

2:24 PM  
Blogger limpy99 said...

RSG and JDR, for some reason I can't post it, so I experiemented and found I could put it in the comments section. I don't like it, but it worked.

Eclectic, yes your kids know that, but your kids are also superhumans, so that doesn't count.

2:33 PM  
Blogger SoozieQ said...

Wow, what a whore. Heh. I've always wanted to call someone that. She seems fitting.

4:51 PM  
Blogger Rat In A Cage said...

I don't know what the question was, but that was some of the funniest damn reading in a long time.

Funny perhaps due to my experiences in a all male high school with the Fransiscan Brothers, an all guy dorm at college & many similar dances & tales of woe.

Brought back some semi-hilarious memories of my own there.

6:20 PM  
Blogger Sometimes Saintly Nick said...

Well, Limpy, this is one way to post.

If I were a betting guy (I ain't, but you are) I'd wager that if Tammy did get hitched to her waiter, she is now divorce. That's the odds these days.

7:18 PM  

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