It started out as any other night. The sun was down and so were my inhibitions. Drinks were being poured and consumed at rates that would put any mother into a cardiac arrest. But I remember each detail with crystal clarity, as I replay the events unfolding in my fond memories. The crimson top that contoured my bust perfectly and my unfortunate attempt at a smokey eye will forever be etched in my memory. This was the night I went home with a six and woke up with a ten.
I was not yet accustomed to the college life. I was a novice to the heavy drinking, the constant partying, and promiscuity that surrounded me, but I lusted for it. That first week of my freshman year, I had the sweet taste of the nectar of freedom and I was addicted. I applied my dark makeup to hide the damage from the previous nights and posed for the obscene number of pictures showing a heinous amount of skin. We obsessed over the boys who were texting us from the nights before. Those seniors must have really liked us.
Armed with lip gloss and water bottles filled with vodka, my pack of freshmen and I left the dorm ready to take on the sludge of the basements and the sting of cheap alcohol. We couldn’t have been more easy to spot as first year students, unless we were wearing lanyards and were carrying maps. As we entered our first destination, we descended down to the basement towards the beams of lights and the deafening music. We danced to an array of songs until we decided to try another fraternity. Before we left, my friend took me aside to inform me that she had been invited to another party where her senior asked her to bring only one friend. I was the chosen one. Now these weren’t any typical seniors. These were top tier seniors. Oh, the importance and status was too much for us to handle as measly little freshmen. But we mustered up the strength to go to the absolute rager that these party veterans were obviously throwing.
As we opened the door, we were greeted by six dudes gathered around a pool table drinking natty lights, playing poker. Rager? Not so much. In that moment, I had decided to stop being the gawky awkward girl I had been in high school and bang one of them. I pulled my friend close and asked her to point to the hottest. She scanned the room and pointed to a muscular dude, barely visible from the smoke and the dim lighting. Oh well, he seemed cute enough. He seemed like a six or a seven in my mind.
I don’t know what brought on the sudden surge of confidence. Maybe it was the power I felt from the new atmosphere. Maybe it was just the way I felt in my tight red shirt. It was most likely the vodka. But I was feeling flawless. I strutted up to him, not letting my body be controlled by my own intoxication. And I whispered in his ear “come with me” as I grabbed his hand. I was headed straight for the upstairs bedroom. The dim lighting only made the entire scene even more seductive, and it helped hide the fact that I was probably tripping over myself and my face was flushed. He seemed like a decent looking guy, but he was a senior and I was a mere freshman, which made him instantly hotter. I trust him with my life, or at least my vagina. I would not regret this when the sun came up. The night proceeded as expected, with no hiccups.
But, when I awoke the next morning, I could only see the sunlight on his exposed, perfectly sculpted chest. I had to do a double take. He was beautiful. Was I still drunk? No chance. Was I still dreaming? Dear Lord, I did not deserve the boy laying next to me. I was only a mere mortal. In an attempt not to look like the exact replica of the crazy girlfriend meme, I stopped my drooling and gawking. I knew I would have a story for my friends when I returned to my dorm, and anxiously awaited to tell them the story of how I ended up going home with a cross between a model, a god, and frat star. I also realized just how far a little bit of confidence could get you, apparently allll the way with a ten.