Dearest Loveliest Fratdaddy,
At your best you are charming, sexy, hilarious, frivolous, and worship the ground I walk on, which makes sense because I deserve no less. However, at your worst you are arrogant, egotistical, and condescending. Even though I know this is like the fourth time I’ve asked you to explain what a zone defense is, I really am trying super hard to understand. Don’t get me wrong, I love how confident and sometimes even cocky you are, because god damn you look good trotting around the bases in your intramural games. That is what first drew me to you from across the neon lit basement that fateful Tuesday morning as I drunkenly spotted you “banking” (look babe, I used a basketball word in context!) ping pong balls into red Solos. But as much as I adore you, six or seven or fourteen shots in, you turn into a dick. This was very evident about a week ago. In case you don’t recall last Saturday night, let me give you a recap.
You, Zach and that rando sophomore whose name I still can’t remember (Keith? Kent? It was something awful.) came over to pregame with me, Sam, and Kaitlin at nine-ish, which turned into like ten-ish because Dirty Dancing Havana Nights was on ABC Family, and even though it’s kind of horrible compared to the first one, it still has Patrick Swayze in it, which is good enough reason to watch it. Anyway, you guys were already buzzed upon arrival so we decided to drink twice as much just to keep up which was never going to happen, but it was worth a shot…or eight. This quickly turned into a slop fest. We tried to take to Dickson Street, but got turned away from every bar, even that sleazy one that let’s all the underaged kids in. So we retreated back to my apartment and shotgunned beers on the front porch while Zach spewed off his manifesto on why college football players should get paid — we’ve heard it like three times tonight, seriously STFU no one cares. However Kaitlin was totally eating up every word he was saying and preceded to lead him into her bedroom for what I later learned was a sloppy MO with some less than impressive dry-humping before Zach vommed in the corner and passed out on her floor. The sophomore (was it Kirk?) disappeared. Still don’t know where he is. And then Sam dipped out to head over to her current hookup’s bed at the fratcastle for a late night shack sesh. Finally, you and I were alone, and this is where what could’ve been a great night took a devastating turn for the worse.
We head back to my room where it starts to get hot and heavy, when shiiit I remember I’m on my period. You try to be nice about it, but your drunk self is way too blunt, and I feel way guilty for letting you down (hypothetically and literally). But since I’m like the greatest most perfect girlfriend ever, I offer to give you head to make up for it. Now as a disclaimer, I totally appreciate that you appreciate me appreciating you. It’s awesome that you get super into it (I would cry if you didn’t), but that’s impossible because I’m way too good at it. However, on this particular occasion you got way too into it, and this is not the first time this has happened. Pulling my hair too hard, pushing my head, overaggressive thrusting, or anything else that causes me even the slightest bit of discomfort will immediately result in the termination of the fellatio session. I’m drunk too, you ass, and tempting my gag reflex when I have a stomach full of vodka isn’t the brightest idea. I get that you’re in the heat of the moment, and “just can’t control yourself,” but seriously, how would you like it if every time I came I simultaneously punched you in the throat?
In conclusion, don’t face-bang me ever again, because best case scenario, I hate you, worst case scenario I puke on your manparts.
I love you anyway (for now),
Your Hot Girlfriend