“I Was Like ‘Hi, Guys, Here’s My Bra.'”

People loved the story I posted about Georgiana and her black, thigh-high suede boots.  They also love it when I post pictures of “fit girls,” as I found out from reading Daily Sport.  If you enjoy both those things, you are my base, and will want to see this recent post on Street Boners.  Don’t look at it at work, though!

“Margaret” recently graduated from a small arts college in the southwest of England.  She’s currently teaching, and plans to go to Bali next year to study gamelan.  The summer after college ended, she moved back to her college town.  “I still have friends at the college, including some guys who are in a band. This band played at the college during Freshers’ Week this term, and I went along with another friend (“Abby”) to see them play.”  She goes on to ask “do you have Freshers’ Week in the U.S.?”, but I think it’s just the same thing as Orientation.

She was wearing “a really short white dress with short sleeves and pretty embroidered flowers around the neckline, a black and silver waist belt with the buckle shaped like 2 swallows, a black cardigan, black opaque tights, and silver flats.”

White minidress

White minidress

Black cashmere cardigan

Black cashmere cardigan

Silver flats

Silver flats

Margaret felt odd being an alumna and hanging out with a bunch of current students; “this was the first time I’d been back to this pub or on campus at all since our emotional goodbye party at the end of my last term there.”   Also, “I found that I knew a really small number of people at the pub that night.”  She couldn’t talk to her friends in the band, because they were performing most of the night, and her friend was busy reminiscing with a hometown friend she had encountered.

“I was feeling at a bit of a loose end. I did the only thing I could to alleviate all my feelings of weirdness and got wrecked. And when I get wrecked, I get quite… kissy. So I was wandering around trying to find someone I knew, and while I was doing this I looked over at Abby, who had started making out with this guy she knew from home (apparently she had a big crush on him when she was younger, but he knocked her back! And they were chatting about this, and he clearly came to the conclusion he was wrong).”

Our heroine followed suit:  “What happened next was I grabbed the nearest person I sort of recognised, who happened to be a fresher who I had met briefly earlier that evening. I may have started talking to him, or I may have simply grabbed him and started kissing him. I remember thinking that it was fortunate he was walking past, because he’s really tall and so am I, so I tower above most boys I know. We spent the next hour or so kissing in front of the pub (I assume, I can’t really remember this part of the night).”

After Abby got a taxi home, “I decided to stay over in Fresher’s room (because I had been watching a lot of Sex and the City those past weeks, and decided it was the thing to do).”  Young people are so suggestible.  It is fortunate that the things popular culture encourages them to do are, for the most part, benign.  A hundred years ago, recent college grads were probably all like, “So I decided to go civilize Africa — I had been reading a lot of Joseph Conrad that week, and it seemed like the thing to do.”

“Although we didn’t have sex, we had an entertaining night together, mainly with him enthusiastically going down on me.  I then spent a really long time telling him how I was really old (I’m not, just he’s quite young, like 19) and how it was weird that I was an ex-student but I was still hanging around college (it wasn’t that weird) and that I used to live in the same halls of residence that he does (that was a bit weird).”

This boy was “quite nice,” and his actions had disproven the Teuterian stereotype that young dudes are all inconsiderate lovers.  However, she didn’t want to keep messing around with him “because he had just started university and I didn’t really want to be a part of that, I’d done the whole student thing already. So I bumped into him a couple more times at the pub, and we talked a bit but nothing else really happened til last week. I went up to the pub again to see another friend who is still a student, and she knows some people in Fresher’s halls, so I ended up talking to him and some others in his room.”

“We then went into the kitchen to make coffee, and for some reason he was sucking on a lollipop. So, being a little drunk again, I started flirtatiously pulling the lolly out of his mouth and putting it in mine, which inevitably ended up with us kissing again, which we carried on doing until someone walked in the kitchen and busted us.”  These college hookup stories are always so complicated, like “we went to make out in my dorm room, but there were already other people making out there, so we decided to go to his room, but on the way there we ran into the drug dealer, and we had to go to the ATM to get money to buy weed, and then after we got stoned, we all decided to go to a nightclub, but we waited half an hour and our taxi never came, so {etc., etc.}.”  They’re like these ridiculous shaggy dog stories, where you have to go to twelve different locations just to get some cock.

Or not, as in this case:  “We went back and rejoined the people in his room, carried on talking, and that night I decided I didn’t want to stay with him, I would prefer to go home and sleep in my own bed. I was pretty tired, and I think had some stuff to do the next morning or something.”  She was wearing a black miniskirt.  “There seems to be a correlation between the nights I wear short skirts and the nights I get laid.”

The next night she went to a party/event thing on campus, wearing “a HOT short bright red dress with an empire waist and appliqued roses all over the chest, the same black cropped cardigan from the night before, a skinny black belt round my waist, and red red lipstick. I was proud of this outfit.”

Red empire-waist minidress

Red empire-waist minidress

Red and gray vintage Caroline Herrera minidress

Red and gray vintage Caroline Herrera minidress

The chaste relations between her and Fresher couldn’t last long; “I never really think of him except for when I am drunk, when I find him really really attractive and all I want to do is jump him.”  There were bands and DJs at this thing, “so I spent most of the evening dancing, and eventually saw the boy and as I predicted, started kissing him again. We went back to his room at the end of the night, and this time we did have sex, but I refrained from talking about how weird/old I was.”

“This time the walk of shame in the morning was pretty bad, I got up to pee in the morning so just pulled my dress on without my underwear, and then when I went to go home, I couldn’t be bothered with taking the dress off again to put my bra on, so I just walked out with my bra in my hand. And opened the door to the WHOLE of the floor, who were going to the shops and were just about to ask my Fresher if he wanted anything. I was like, hi, guys… here’s my bra.”

Will it happen again?  “I think the No Drama Obama way would be to not pursue this. However, I am fairly sure that next time the both of us are in the same place at the same time and alcohol is involved, I’ll end up getting in his bed again. Probably wearing black tights and a short skirt.”

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2 Responses to ““I Was Like ‘Hi, Guys, Here’s My Bra.'””

  1. “I think the No Drama Obama way would be to not pursue this. However, I am fairly sure that next time the both of us are in the same place at the same time and alcohol is involved, I’ll end up getting in his bed again. Probably wearing black tights and a short skirt.”

    Dear god that sounds familiar.

  2. […] Anyway, here’s one of my favorite posts. It is sooooo typical of the aforementioned college f*ckwit. And for the record, I don’t think ‘Asshole” is too harsh in any way. When you’ve read it and have to see more, I also recommend “I Was Like ‘Hi, Guys, Here’s My Bra.’” […]

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