Drunkest Girls Go to a Formal
When asked to write about formals we both looked at each other with the same old Valentine's Day look and desperately searched around the room for gin and a bucket of fried cheese. We give you now an image the story of every formal you have ever been to. For someone.
Someone in your house that you're not necessarily friends with set you up to go with his or her "really good friend" read: they will end up getting married in eight years but thank God you'll be in sunny Mexico by then. You agree begrudgingly because your other options are pretty much limited to that dick or trick you had sex with last term (two months ago and you blacked out before finishing so you're not even sure if it counts) or your best friend who may or may not be in love with you and would read it incredibly wrong. The night comes.
You enter the house. You wanted to meet them in their room but they have to arrive 20 minutes late because they have a meeting with a prof (i.e. they can't be alone with you for more than 30 seconds without alcohol poisoning and severe weirdness). He/she is nowhere to be found but not to worry! You just spied the biggest bottle of Hpnotiq you have ever seen in your life and the faint sound of Gaga is ringing in your ears. This could end up just fine. Nevermind that you just realized a pledge is evidently taking your ex-boyfriend (she was warned about your wrath but you're playing it cool) and your good friend agreed to take your stalker from Astro 2 who pushes her tits together whenever you have a conversation. Awkwardness knows no bounds at formalz so just embrace it.
Your date enters. He/she looks better than you remembered. Granted you just finished the bottle of Andre the two of you were given, on top of showing up almost uncomfortably stoned. He/she looks at you, and you giggle slightly discussing where each of you is from, your majors and how incredibly awkward the other dates appear to be with one another.
You mount the bus. Physically mount. Tails have led you to a state somewhere between your token drunk single aunt at your cousin's wedding and reaching the afterparty at DHMC. The two of you sit there, playing Never Have I Ever and Truth or Dare until everyone starts getting too real admitting bondage, anal sex and a strange fetish for Richard Nixon covered in glitter.
You get to the formal. The two of you very overtly make out on the dance floor and ignore the fact that every legitimate couple appears to be fighting or avoiding one another. You are surrounded by girls on girls and gay guys making out with the foreheads of their very straight female dates. You decide to move on.
Although we are not sure of this last bit, from our research we have found that the location of sex varies by formal. Sometimes sex happens in (not on) a tree. Sometimes sex involves breaking into the homes of very angry men, and some even have sex while playing shuffleboard.
You get on the bus home. You are getting sleepy eyes watching the two people next to you get after it while slightly concerned someone is going to get hurt. It's fine.
You wake up in Hanover outside your house. You decide to go upstairs. You pull your date's trigger (just to return the favor from earlier) and fall asleep with exactly two articles of clothing on.
You wake up. Date is gone. The blitz from them reads: "Hey. Crazy night! Had no idea you were so into Total Eclipse of the Heart lol. See ya around. PS I think I left my shoes in your room, if you want to give them back it would be much appreciated. ;)"
Xoxo, the Drunkest Girls
