Romance by Ralph Lauren

It was the best of times, it was the worst of times...it was my freshman year of college.


It was, 1st semester. My high school boyfriend who said we would stay in a long distance relationship was starting to lose interest.... shocker! We liked each other all through high school, he was a year older than me. Beautiful Polynesian guy, football player, we finally confessed our feelings and hooked up summer of my senior year. Ohhh the summer of graduating high school, the summer before college, too many stories to remember! Or too many Boones Farms Strawberry Hills to remember, literally.


Anyway, beautiful Greek god of a body that he had, and a total sweetheart combined, I was in heaven. We spent the entire summer together. He wanted to "stay together forever", awe how cute. I went off to college in August, we broke up in September.


And, I knew exactly how to get over it.


I think it was my first toga party. Or maybe it was the pimp and ho party at the K Sigma fraternity house. Nope, I think it was the toga party, something tells me it was.


So, here I am doing my thang, in my sheet, toga, dancing, grinding with anything that resembles a brown skin beauty. I was still in blinder mode.


Blinder mode: specific qualifications for male interaction, often times prioritizing a certain look. i.e. I only liked brown boys at the time.


In this case, I was still really into Polynesian boys. The ending of my relationship with a beautiful summer fling didn't necessarily hurt me enough to swear off mankind.


There I am. Dancing. Toga dancing. Grind-ing. Not really a care in the world. I am dancing with this boy who is quiet but has a nice build. We are drunk. One thing leads to another and dancing turns into us walking back to my dorm room??? Hubba hubba. I know how to take charge, apparently?


So I lead this innocent victim, ahem, boy to my dorm room. Of which I shared with a virginess, scared of black people, (I had a tupac posted on my wall!lol!), good girl, who went home to see mommy and daddy every weekend. Thank God, she was gone.


I don't know what I was thinking. I was thinking with my pussy!


Yup. I said it. We do that sometimes, we are like guys sometimes, sorry but its true and any girls who don't admit this, I feel sorry for you, I really do. More on repressing the pussy later.


So, I'M buzzed, OK, lets get this straight, I'm shit faced! Sloshed. We are pretending to try and talk in my dorm room and have a legitimate conversation about some thing to feel like we have something in common other than the fact that we are both horny, and want to just rip our clothes off...err toga's off!


Oh ya, newsflash, we made out at the party on the dance floor! Classy, public making out session in the frat house toga party.


We mumble in our drunken stooper about god knows what, i really didn't care, i don't think he did either. He says he needs to go to the bathroom.


Here I am again, waiting for a guy who is in the bathroom forever!


I am 18 years old. I am drunk. I am wearing a toga.


I decide to get my expensive lotion my mom got me for my birthday that I cherish and save for special occasions. I decide to get it out and dab a little on myself, after all we have been hot and heavy sweaty toga dancing for hours. Totally normal freshen up, right?


I start to rub it all over my body, elbows, stomach, legs. Necky, shoulders. Lathered. Slathered. Embellished with lotion. Not just any lotion, but perfumed lotion. I have perfumed potent lotion all over my body. Because that's hot right?


He walks in, and immediately says, did you spill something in here? Did you spill a bottle of perfume in here?


Uh ya, I'm so pissed i knocked it over. (total bold faced lie)


He gets in my bed, we roll around, tear our clothes off, sloppy, messy. I have no idea what is going on but I like it. No idea. We are starting to have sex.... or attempt to... mmm hmmmm


He says he needs to get a condom, he does.


He goes limp.


We try,


and

try


and try.


I suck


and we try


and i suck


and we try


and i lick


and we try

and eewwww dont suck a penis post condom, ick!


and we pass out


We wake up MORTIFIED! A total outer-body experience. Who was I? Where was I? Did I? Wow. Room smelling of very potent Romance by Ralph Lauren. He gets up.
I get am naked and mortified hiding on my side of the bed, just wanting him to bolt. We both get dressed in a flash and peace out. I dont even know if we talked at all. Blocked it out. Traumatized at my own will.


Lessons- OK, ok, ok... where does one even begin?! Pussy fumble?

Not to mention, I'm not ignoring the fact that getting drunk at 18 is a no-no and lesson in itself, or wearing a toga, or going to a frat party, or living with someone who is afraid of black people, or under age drinking, or how underage drinking leads to lack of good decision making, or taking a boy home with you isn't exactly smart or safe....the list goes on, and trust me I will get to it, and I DO have morals and recognize.


BUT- the lesson here is twofold:

Lesson #1. Sometimes us girls, we think with our pussy and we fumble our own damn pussy! I'll admit it. (Mos defintely more on how I fumbled my own pussy in detail later, its a reoccurring theme at times). And Seriously? Lotion all over your body? Really? Massive quantities of engineered chemicals disbursed in every crevice and then lather and repeat? Not hot. Not sexy. Not helping the pussy.


Lesson # 2. Boys, boys, little and big boys, don't drink so much that you cant get it up! And if you cant get it up- give it up!


*Lotion explosion revisited Girls, girls girls, don't try to make yourself sexy, you got him, he is there, don't use perfume or lotion to cover up for sweaty dancing all night stink, go with it and rock your bad self. He is obviously too drunk to notice. Or if you must, go to the bathroom and freshen up with water and soap, NOT PERFUME AND NOT PERFUMED LOTION AND NOT MASS QUANTITIES.

Thanks for following.....