One
This past summer I was in Sweden, travelling with some friends. My friend Emelie and I were in Gothenburg, ready for a big night out. At a rooftop bar, we drank a lot in anticipation. I’d had my first sips of absinthe, I had a couple shots,and we were hyped to be going out for the first time on the trip. Fast forward to the club,where they were advertising for a great time for those 22 and older. Though I was only 19, they let me in anyway and we danced the night away.
The next thing I knew, it was 5 a.m. and Emelie and I had left the club with two guys. We went to a McDonald’s down the street where they bought us food, to “sober us up.” Conversation was good — at least the parts that weren’t in Swedish — until we found out the guys were 26 and 28, to our 19 and 21. This was the first red flag: they’d had plenty of selection of girls their own age, but had decided to ask us to leave with them. Unfortunately, my somewhat inebriated mind thought nothing of this.
We ended up going back to one guy’s place, who asked if I wanted to hook up. I said yes, and only then found out he was a virgin. Not that I have anything against virgins, I don’t! Virginity is absolutely a social construct. Yet it is kind of concerning that he sought out a 19-year-old to stick it into for the first time. I will say, he was good enough at . . . other things, but the second we were ready to do the deed, he could NOT, for the life of him, get it up. For a couple of seconds, he was able, until whiskey dick got the best of him again. No wonder he was still a virgin!
And then, of course, being a man, after underperforming he asked me to give him head. Sorry pal, no can do.
The worst part, perhaps, might be that my friend was in the living room on an air mattress and heard everything. Awkward! Or maybe the worst part was that when I woke up a couple of hours later, I realized that the guy I was in bed with was ugly!
Me and Emelie hurried out the second we woke up.
I’d thought that since he was older, he’d be good in bed. However, I was proven very wrong. I still don’t know his name. So, he will forever be known as the 26-year-old Swedish virgin.
Two
I once showed up to a Tinder girl’s apartment whose boyfriend passed away less than two months ago. She said this when I was there and I decided then I needed to get out. So I did.
Three
I should have known the date would be bad when he suggested we go see Bad Boys: Ride or Die. I don’t know why I didn’t walk away right then. But as embarrassing as it is to admit, neither the guy, nor his crazy taste in movies, was the reason things went wrong. This wretched tale really began the moment we decided to watch the movie high.
I thought it would work out great — it would make me less stressed, make the movie more bearable too. I’d gone out with this guy once before, and met him through a friend, so it wasn’t like he was a total stranger…. But the edibles I normally took had five milligrams a piece, and these ones had 10, and I am, apparently, an idiot, because I didn’t think to check that.
I took one whole gummy right before he picked me up. Things were going well, and we were in the parking lot before the show, where he took his own. There was no reason for me to have more weed, and definitely no reason to have another whole edible, but apparently I’d decided I was stupid now, so that’s exactly what I did.
I even made a joke, holding the little bastard in the air and saying, “I’m doing the thing they tell you not to do!” before popping it in my mouth.
It turns out, they tell you not to do that for a very valid reason. I made it about 30 seconds into the movie. A wave of chills and nausea spread from my legs up to my face, and I was suddenly very aware of my skin. It prickled and itched and stretched way too tightly. But my face. My face was the worst. It felt like a clay mask was pressed against it, like I could take it off, and I really wanted to. So, I was much more concerned about removing my face than the guy beside me or paying attention to the beginning of the movie, but it turns out it didn’t matter, because that’s the last thing I remember.
Will Smith was a cop? Or maybe a spy? There were guns out for sure. All I really remember was this shoot-out in a candy store and a disturbing image of a man eating fro-yo straight out of the machine with sparkles in his eyes — which, the more I think of it, is very probably not part of the movie at all.
Before you judge me too harshly, please remember I normally take five mgs and have a good time. I had now taken 20. It was no longer a good time.
When I regained consciousness, the movie was almost over. My legs were heavy, my stomach was churning and the images were moving way too quickly. I was going to throw up. I was going to throw up on a date in a movie theatre watching Bad Boys: Ride or Die.
But I couldn’t rush out of the theatre — that would be embarrassing! So I, very graciously and daintily, lifted up my bag of popcorn, and vomited in it. I snuck a peek at my date, but he was too riveted by whatever the hell was going on on screen to notice, so I just, very subtly, put the bag back down. I was now on a date with a bag of vomit in my lap. Romantic.
Then the credits were rolling and my date was wondering why I wasn’t getting up. He asked if I was ready to go. So, I had to finally admit how high I really was.
“I don’t know if I can move,” I said.
“You can move,” he told me.
“I don’t know if I should move,” I said.
But he helped me to my feet. The movement was surely very slow, but the room spun anyway. Thankfully, that good old popcorn-vomit-bag came in handy yet again, and I was able to get the vomit in there instead of on him, just in time.
So, our plans for after were scrapped. It was a long drive home — and not only because I kept yelling he was going too fast. He nodded along to music sheepishly and we drove 40 km/hour with the window rolled down in case I puked again.
To give him credit, he was a really good sport about it. But no goodnight-kiss for vomit face over here, that’s for sure. I got inside as fast as I could manage, which was slow as hell. And I’m sure I left him with quite the lasting impression, haggard and shuffling, my popcorn-vomit-bag still sitting on the curb outside the theatre.
So, that was probably the worst date I’ve ever been on. I will never again take that much weed on a date. Or ever. And to this day, I could not tell you the plot of Bad Boys: Ride or Die.
Four
When I was in first year, I went out with this guy. One night, he picked me up and took me for a sweet treat, and we ended up in some random parking lot up by the mall. I was really inexperienced with dating at the time, and had only gone out with him a couple of times. We were sitting in the car with the heat on, when all of a sudden, smoke started billowing from under the hood. It was 11 p.m. on a school night.
At first, he called CAA, who said they weren’t going to be able to come for over an hour. Since his family lived locally, he then called his dad, who, along with his little sister, ended up meeting us in this parking lot in the middle of the night. I had never met either of them before and was slightly mortified when the first question they asked my date was something along the lines of, “What on earth are you guys doing out here?”
His dad told me to go sit in the car with his little sister, who also had no idea who I was. Thankfully she was very sweet, but I really wasn’t expecting to have a family meet-and-greet in the middle of the night in a parking lot. His dad drove us back to his house in Dartmouth, where he and I switched cars before driving back to the parking lot to meet CAA. The only thing I remember from the drive back with his dad and sister is his dad unpacking the nuts and bolts of my future journalism career — despite the fact he had no idea who I was.
The guy and I drove back to the parking lot, where we met CAA, before he gave me a ride back to Shirreff Hall, my first-year residence. His Cadillac was done for, and unfortunately, that wasn’t the last time we went out — or the last twist in our story. He would go on to be the first guy I ever kissed.
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