Through all the Wine-Bag-Wednesday’s I’ve participated in, I will always hold my first in my heart. Now this was not the first time I had slapped the bag, or even gotten wine drunk. However, this was the first time I had gotten drunk enough to make my friends legitimately concerned about my embarrassing behavior. So I consider this the first REAL time I participated in the sacred art.
It started off, as always, with white zinfandel. To this day I swear there is not a single fucking grape in that giant plastic bag of regret. But I chugged it down like it was holy water (or Diet Coke) anyway. I was feeling it almost immediately, and this is about the time that I had the profound realization that cheap wine makes me horny. The only logical next step in this situation was to text my current fuckbuddy, we’ll call him Andrew.
My dormroom was packed when Andrew arrived, and I was more than excited to see the 6’4”, all muscle hunk the Franzia Gods had delivered to me. He should have already known my DTF status after I had texted him “wine and booty in my room, come get it ;)” but just to make sure he understood, I announced it to the room. “Heyyy EVERYONE!” I shouted while trying to balance on my desk, “isn’t he sooooooo hot?!” I was officially cut off. And I really should have listened.
At some point the wine bags were sucked dry. I looked for Andrew to suck him dry next, but he was gone. And then so was my memory. I have on good authority that I made my way to Andrew’s room, and the hickies on my neck confirmed this. There’s a long gap of that night that turned to nothingness, but what I do remember is horrifying.
Leaving my best friend’s dorm I saw Andrew in the hall. I ran full speed and tackled him. Because he is half man child/half gorilla, I bounced off him and crashed on the floor. Hard.
“Whoa! Are you ok?” he asked me, trying to hide his laughter.
“NO!” I pouted, climbing him and forcing him to carry me like a princess. I tried to look cute, but I have full confidence that I failed completely.
“Ok let’s take you back to [best friend’s] dorm then.” Victory. I smiled knowing I was the envy of every girl- being carried like the princess I am by the hottest boy in the building. If my night had ended here, I would be nothing but proud. Unfortunately, that’s not how my life works.
I drank some more at my friends dorm and the desperation for dick hit again. I tried to climb up onto my friend’s bed to sit with Andrew. I fell backwards onto the floor and hit my head. I tried again, slipped down and hit my face. A rule of thumb, which I try to follow now, goes as follows: if you’re too drunk to get on the fucking bed, you’re too drunk to get dicked down.
But when there’s a will, there’s a way. And I am a problem solver. I cried. I cried at Andrew for help. How this boy could put up with me deserves him a thousand blowjobs (not from me, obviously, but still). He lifted me onto her bed and I shameless started to undress him.
“No you’re too drunk” he whispered back, gently pushing me away.
“Fuck me!” I demanded back, climbing onto him and pinning his arms down. I could immediately feel his boner and I smiled triumphantly.
“Would you like me to leave?” my friend asked sarcastically, sitting on the bed with us. To be fair, I had forgotten that anyone else was there. I nodded as Andrew apologized and offered to take me back to his room.
He went to give me a reassuring kiss, and this is when my sex-goddess status depleted indefinitely. I really did try to throw up into my hand. But my aim is shit, and I got quite an alarming amount on his face.
Was that the last time we hooked up? No. So important lesson to be learned here, ladies: my head game is stronger than my stomach..