“He Stayed Sober Enough to Drive Me Home. I Stayed Drunk Enough to Ask Him Upstairs.”
“Samantha” submits this story, the second-prize winner in our Halloween contest series. (I only got like two entries, and the first-prize winner is ridiculously debauched.) It took place in 1999, while she was in graduate school at UNC Chapel Hill: “I was 23, and dating multiple guys (which I had never done); therefore, feeling very adventurous. I decided to recycle an old 1920’s flapper costume (a crushed velvet black dress with several layers of fringe) because I like that it was sort of sexy without screaming, ‘yes I want to get laid!'”
I didn’t like the shoes in this flapper-dress picture, so I went on the internet to find pictures of some hot flapper shoes. Something terrible occurred. I found out that actual 1920’s pumps were not hot. They were extremely dowdy. All thick, clunky heels, and uppers coming too high up on the foot so there isn’t any toe cleavage. Look here, or at the picture below. MATRONLY. People always talk about how great the fashions of the 20s were, but in the time that’s passed since then, our understanding of what constitutes a hot shoe has advanced by orders of magnitude. Fashion nostalgia-ists, you should be proud to live in the 21st century. WE ARE LIVING IN A GOLDEN AGE OF HOT SHOES.
By contrast, look at what we have available today:
She continues, “anyway, the guys I had been seeing at the time all flaked out on me, and so I found myself fairly drunk at a dance club (called “The Treehouse” no less).” She was dancing with friends and ran into “Chris,” whom she had met a few times. She knew him because he hung out with one of the guys she was dating, “Brandon.” Chris is “your standard Midwestern corn-fed type of guy — about 6 feet tall, medium build, dirty blond hair, blue eyes. Personality? Boring as hell. But this particular evening, he was dressed up as a cowboy AND he had just hurt his ankle so he had a crutch with him. Which, in my drunken state, made him ever-so-endearing in that “Aw, shucks” kind of way. So, we danced closely the whole night. He managed to stay sober enough to drive me home. I managed to stay drunk enough to ask him up to my room. We made out but given my drunken state, I passed out before anything really happened.”
“I awoke the next morning with a terrible hangover and immediate remorse. I looked over at Chris and attempted to be civil. He interpreted my civility as, “hey baby, wanna have morning sex?” I gave him some courtesy kisses, but when he climbed on top of me, I just shook my head at him. ‘No way, guy. Not going to happen.'” Aw, how sad. “He was nice enough to drive me to work, though I did feel very awkward about the fact that he was good friends with one of the guys I was dating.”
And who were these other guys? “Mike” was a dude she met through her housemate and hooked up with about a month into the school year. “Then he started to freak out because he was a reformed pastor’s kid. Meaning, he went crazy during college and did lots of drugs and had lots of sex. So he thought he would turn a new leaf during grad school, and went back to being an evangelical Christian. Which meant NO SEX.” That’s one way to make graduate school even more stressful, I suppose. After she got sick of this she moved on to Chris’s friend “Brandon.” He was an older guy in her program she would hook up with from time to time. He totally lied about his whereabouts and went out with his other girlfriend on Halloween night. “Mike knew about Brandon and hated him.”