Worst Break-Up Ever, Part III

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.