Molly, Coke, And The Worst Formal Date In The History Of Formal Dates


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Nice Move


Literally everybody loves formals. I don’t think that I have met a girl so far who would turn down the opportunity to get all dolled up, drink copious amounts of free alcohol, dance for hours, and all with the underlying possibility of grinding with a potential husband. Formals are like prom, except you don’t have to pilfer your parent’s alcohol or worry about popped cherries. Plus you’re guaranteed at least fifteen more likes on your Instagram than you’d get for a normal date dash. What’s not to love? Last year, I agreed to be set up blindly with a guy on his fraternity formal. My life motto is always say yes, because it will either lead to a good time or a good story. Unfortunately, I usually end up with a good story more often than a good time. This was definitely one of those times.

I probably should have known that I was in a little over my head when my date asked me if I wanted to get molly barely six messages into our first text interaction. I politely declined. I was far too preoccupied with stalking various sisters’ Instagrams for formal filter/pose/caption/location inspiration to do much other than wonder in passing if I had agreed to spend four to seven hours with a rave slave (Disclaimer: I used to firmly believe that any and everyone who did molly also definitely traded kandi and listened to strictly EDM. No offense.). After we ironed out logistics, we did not talk again until the afternoon of the event- just the way I like it. When the big day was finally upon us, I knew we were going to have a fabulous time. This is because I had managed to get my cat eyes to look nearly identical and I only had had to use like three q-tips. Someone get me my own YouTube channel! Spoiler Alert: on-point eye makeup does not necessarily indicate a great night ahead.

As I flounced into the fraternity, I was in my element and I’m sure everyone could tell (just kidding, no one really noticed me walk in because the foyer was empty but whatev). The party was fun, my date was subpar, and there was a ton of space for activities. Soon, however, I noticed that my date had disappeared. Being the social butterfly that I am, I didn’t let it phase me. Instead, I did a few laps and met some new pals. He was actually gone for quite awhile, but I hardly noticed because the DJ was flawless. I mean, “It Wasn’t Me” followed by the “Ignition Remix”? He couldn’t lose. Eventually, though, I figured I had better check on the guy. Who knew where he could have wandered off to, and if he had any plans for Taco Bell I definitely wanted to be included. I found his room super easily (read: I eventually found it through process of elimination after accidentally opening the doors of three other people’s rooms and getting weird looks at each time). It was closed, so I opened it.

Being that the song CoCo hadn’t yet been released and I was just a naive freshman, I was confused for a second at the white powder my date had in front of him. I knew it wasn’t pixie sticks or the stuff from baby bottle pops, which left only one other kind of candy- nose candy. Basically, I just stared at him open-mouthed for a while. I’m sure that just the way everyone’s reactions to seeing a penis for the first time are different, everyone’s reaction to seeing coke is different, but I was flabbergasted. And, he didn’t even offer me any. Not that I wanted any, but as my grandmother would say- was he raised in a barn? I guess chivalry really is dead, because he just let me stand there while everyone else took a bump. I figured he wanted to be left alone to do his illegal drugs, so I got a pledge to walk me home and was fast asleep under my covers when he must have realized that I had dipped. I’m not sure why this came as a shock, but judging from the text I woke up to the next morning, it was totally out of left field. I have never received a message more offensive or explicit- let alone one from someone I had only spent a few hours with. He said, “Honestly I thought you were a fucking good date dash but fuck you. You’re like all the other fucking whores at this school. Have fun you bitch.” Yeesh, I guess he was raised in a barn.

As I’m sure you can imagine, the next day we went out again, and after two blissful months of dating he pinned me and as I type this we are engaged. LOL, just kidding! He still hates me.

A native Seattleite and self-proclaimed Snapchat queen, she's been a coffee addict since she found out what a coffee bean was. Believer in and promoter of the #freeguac and #freegucci movements. She is obsessed with all things Harry Potter and has been known to stop people at parties to tell them how to remove the wine from their clothes. In her spare time, she enjoys baking, writing for TSM, and pretending like she has her act together. Hit her up @

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