Bad Dates

This post is inspired by Mommy Needs A Nap.

I was not a big date person, but I went on a few.  Bad dates seemed to abound in college.
In fact, I had a string of bad dates one year in college.  All of which were *set-up* dates for a sorority/fraternity event.

Date 1 ~
My sorority held an annual paint/water fight party.  If memory serves, the paint portion was food coloring and solely included to get the party idea past the alumni who were drunk enough to believe that we wanted to have a party to express our artistic sides, not that we were really looking to wear bikinis and wet t-shirts and get it sponsored by our annual dues.  We had water guns and college bodies.  Guys were lining up to attend this party, so when a friend told me her BF's roommate wanted to go, I said I would take him. 
Our friend invited me to her apartment for poker night so I could meet the guy before the event.  I was, as expected, a few drinks over the sober limit, and all I remembered was that he was about my height and skinny. 
Date night arrives and I showed up to his house.  A guy with spiky blonde hair and glasses answered the door.  I said, "Hi I am here to pick up *Eric*, is he around?"
Guy at door says, "Ya, I am Eric.  We met last night."
I say, "Oh, I am sorry, I was drunk.  I thought you were taller."  That was all that came to mind.  He didn't like me much after that.  I wonder why.

Date 2 ~
I was asked as a date to fraternity event.  By a friend.  I couldn't screw this up, right?  Well, I did.  It wasn't all my fault though.  I had a semi-crush on this friend and decided that maybe tonight was the night to make a move.  To gain enough courage, I drank a few beers on the bus on the way there.  (It was a party bus, I wasn't arriving via public transportation.)  I thought it would be best to make my move near the end of the night, so I didn't look desperate during the party.  I spent some time mingling with friends and hanging by the bar in an attempt to not be clingy.  It worked.  I failed to notice that my date was spending the party hanging around a cute brunette that lived 3 doors down my freshman year.  When it came time to head back, he asked if I wouldn't mind sitting with his friend on the bus.  I must have looked confused, so he whispered to me "I am hoping to hook up with *Kendra* tonight, and so I was planning on sitting with her.  I knew you would be ok with it.  Thanks for coming tonight!"  Whoops, didn't see that one coming.  At least I didn't try to make a move.

Date 3 ~ 
A few weeks later, we had another sorority party.  I needed a date.  Again.  So I asked my roommate if her new guy had any friends that might want to come along.  She asked, and came skipping into my room later that day and told me she had found me a date.  Steve. 
All week long, people would ask if I had a date yet, and who it was.   I always replied, "yes, I am taking Steve."  This was met by confused looks.  I then would always say "I don't know him either.  He is a random." 
We had a pre-party at my apartment.  My date and roomie's date were late to arrive.  By the time they got there, everyone was referring to him as "Random Steve."  To.his.face.  He was a little dense though and got over it fast.
At the party, he started to kind of get on my nerves, and he was definitely not someone I wanted to repeat date, but I was being nice.  He brought me a drink and put his hand on the small of my back.  I didn't think anything of it until he says "Are you wearing a girdle?" Whoops, I forgot I was wearing the generic version of Spanx Thongs with a waist band that came to my rib cage.  I probably turned beet red.
On the bus, (always a bus) on the way home, I was definitely not feeling it.  I was trying to be nice, but he was getting too close.  Luckily for me, my friend in the seat in front of us was having a hard night and was turned around talking to me in tears.  Her BF was arrested at the party for serving alcohol to minors (me and her, probably).  While I was consoling her, Steve leans in and says, "I really want to makeout with you right now, but I feel like it is bad timing.  What do you think about later?"  Ugh.  "Um, I don't think it is going to happen tonight buddy.  Sorry."

And those are my stories.  And having re-read them, I realize now, the bad part was mainly my fault and alcohol induced... I wonder why that never occurred to me before?

Why your Granny is right about her panties

When I was a senior in college, I spent a week one spring drunkenly staggering my way through events celebrating my friends who were required to wear these dresses and perform gumbi-like bows.  On my drive back to school, I received the following voicemail from one of my 3 roommates (Names have been changed to protect the innocent)

Alice: C, we changed the locks on the door.  Call when you get close and someone will meet you at the door.  You may want to stop by Victoria's Secret on the way and stock up.  Serious.

I got into town about an hour later and made plans to meet the roommates at the bar so they could explain.  I thought maybe they had decided to vote me off the island during my absence.  Thankfully, I was wrong.  At the bar I hear the story. 

On Sunday morning, two of my roommates headed out to Yogi's for our usual weekend breakfast around noon.  (We always loved heading to the family friendly Yogi's dressed in pajamas, bed head, and last night's makeup.  It made all of the church going families squirm when they brought their children in wearing their Sunday best.  Bonus points if we brought whatever guy had stayed the night.) My other roommate was probably still sleeping at her boyfriend's house.  In the hour or so while my friends were chowing down on migas and breakfast tacos, our apartment was violated.

Nothing of any *emotional* value was taken, only underwear.  Which, all ladies understand, does have monetary value.  Only thongs and sexy-pants.  The thief left behind our combined 8 pairs of full-assed granny panties.  If this wasn't disturbing enough, dude, we can only assume, took a duffel bag from my roommate's room, emptied the bag of its clothes, folded the clothes that previously occupied the duffel bag, and used the bag to carry off our lady part covers. 

I could not stop laughing.  For like 2 hours.  My roommates? Not so happy about my blatant disregard for the trauma they experienced earlier in the day.  My hysteria also might have had something to do with the reenacted scene of my roommate Mary crying on the floor in the fetal position over the cat which took the opportunity to escape the apartment through the broken sliding glass door.  Can't say I blame him, he was the only male in a house of 4 moody women. He came back though.  No worries.

The event did teach us all a valuable lesson.  There is nothing shameful in investing in 2 sets of underwear.  Thongs (which are required for ridding yourself of undue panty lines, and for sexy time) and full coverage underwear (for sleeping).  Which is what I tell my husband every time he whines about my changing into "ugly" underwear before bed. 

Like I could sleep in a thong. Shudder.

Besides, thongs hurt like hell anyway.