I feel it’s my moral responsibility to begin this article with this disclaimer: I am, by no means, any kind of authority on hooking up. I’m actually quite awkward myself, so I encourage all of you to take my advice with a grain of salt.
That said, every student at Fairfield U will have their share of awkward hookups in their four years. You may be “Sensible Susan” Monday through Friday, but come Saturday night, FU students have a tendency to throw caution to the wind and make some decisions they may not have normally made without the influence of the dim lights of the Grape or a kegstand or two.
Your night starts out innocently enough. Guys? No, screw guys! Let’s just dance around in the living room of the Fishbowl, chanting each other’s names and enjoying a couple of cocktails. However, this scenario never goes on too long before one of your gal pals comes up with the ingenious idea to move this party somewhere a little more co-ed – say the bar?
Let’s fast forward to a few vodka 180s later. On a normal night you may be repulsed by the idea of PDAs in front of all these people, but tonight you and… uh…What’sHisFace, have marked off your own little section of the bar and are currently making out like there is no tomorrow. This little make out session will most likely end with one party extending an invitation to the other party for an exclusive viewing of a movie from their private collection or perhaps the grand tour of their beach house.
It seems you and…uh…”does it begin with a B?”, have really hit it off. So let’s go ahead and assume that this turns into a sleepover party. Fast forward once again, a few hours later, as you struggle to open your eyes which you know are horrendously sealed with makeup from the night before, you find yourself in a chokehold with Mr. OhCrapIThinkWeHaveAClassTogether.
Suddenly, you discover in yourself military training you never knew you had, as you slip out of the sleeper hold, and crawl out of the house in stealth mode without waking up the gorilla you found yourself next to this morning.
You get home, do a double take in the mirror (no, it’s not Courtney Love, it’s you), and pass out in your bed hoping that you didn’t bring any “souvenirs” home from Mr. GoshHeLookedBetterInTheDark’s house.
Then, from that day on, you will undoubtedly run into him EVERYWHERE, making extremely awkward and brief eye contact and then pretending to be on your cell phone.
I guess the best advice I could give you for avoiding this situation would be to never stop dancing at the Fishbowl, but I think we all know that’s probably not going to happen. So I just encourage all of you to stay safe, stay classy, and should you find me in the bar inviting gentlemen callers back to “mi casa” to watch Season 1 of “The Office”…send me home… alone.
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