I’ll be the first to admit that I have a problem. I’m addicted to Starbucks. And just like being addicted to shoes or cocaine, my little habit costs me a ton of money and occasionally my health. I mean, $4.65 per day adds up quickly, not to mention the occasional stomach ulcer that results from too many PSLs. But there is nothing more glorious than the first sip of an iced vanilla coffee to relieve a hangover or the smell of a toasted graham latte on a cold winters morning, so it’s a sacrifice I am willing to make. And as it would turn out, I am willing to do just about anything for a free drink.
Like all good stories do, this one starts not only with Starbucks, but also with spring break. To be completely clear, I go to a nerd school. I’m talking hyper-competitive, top-20 university complete with a lot of geeks and very few Greeks. I’m normally okay with going to such a great school, but sometimes I yearn for the house parties, darties, and beat-the-clocks that fill my state-school friends’ Snapchats. So when my best friend invited me to visit her at her SEC school for spring break, I welcomed the idea with open arms.
The day before break began, I was walking to class and sipping on my signature skinny vanilla latte. My friend – let’s call him Sam — was talking about the leadership conference he was attending, because he has his life in order and I obviously do not. To save my ego, I quickly made a joke about how many guys I was going to be able to hook up with while at my friend’s college. Ten guys, to be exact.
“Wait,” Sam said in dead seriousness, “if you hook up with ten guys, I’ll buy you Starbucks.”
His doubt in my ability, while initially insulting, went straight to my head. I had intended my remark to be a joke, but the idea suddenly became all too real when faced with the promise of free lattes and the chance to prove him wrong.
“Deal,” I said before I could stop myself. I was going to be there for five days, so that’s an average of two guys per day. Easy, right? Ha.
I spent the next week eating at cute cafes, shopping at fancy boutiques, and being a general basic bitch. While this was all well and good, I had yet to lock lips with a single guy. We’d gone out a few times, but the week turned out to be relatively tame due to the fact that my friend had class and she, unlike me, isn’t a complete degenerate and actually goes to class. But it was a Thursday and my final night in town, and the thought of free Starbucks was ingrained in my mind.
“Kate,” I whispered over my second shot of rum. “I need to hook up with ten guys tonight.” Her face was one of pure horror mixed with the tiniest bit of respect.
“You can’t do that!” she squealed in disbelief. I gave her a meaningful look, and threw back another round. She was saying I couldn’t, but the alcohol was saying that I totally could. With that, I threw on my best push-up bra, my sexiest dress, and a sparkly necklace for good measure. We rolled up to the party shortly after, and my ego went from zero to one hundred very quickly. I wish I was joking when I said that I walked in, found the nearest male, and asked him to kiss me.
To this day, I don’t know how I did it. I would attribute my success to my charming personality, beautiful (read: tight) dress, and alcohol. The night was a string of having a one-minute conversation with the closest available guy, and then aggressively going in for the kill. My last ditch effort was telling my prospective hook up that I was Irish and he just had to kiss me, because it also happened to be St. Patrick’s Day. But, because I am a smart girl who knows how to budget her time, I never let the session last longer than five minutes before I decided that I “needed a drink” and would “be back in a minute!” Heartless, I know.
After suffering a minor black out, I woke up early the next morning to catch my 7 a.m. flight. Still slightly drunk, I checked my phone and immediately went to the camera roll to find an Instagram worthy photo. My jaw dropped in minor disbelief as I looked at the thirteen newest additions to my photo collection. Somehow, my drunken mind had decided that it would be a fantastic idea to snap a discrete selfie with each of my new friends. I flipped through, mentally giving myself a pat on the back for some of my conquests. In total, there were thirteen. Among the ones I remember, there was an international student, a prospective student, and a self-admitted gay guy who agreed to kiss me only after I told him about the latte situation.
I tried coercing my friend into buy me a latte for each guy that I tricked into kissing me, but I found pity in my heart as to not run his bank account dry. I settled for three drinks instead — too bad dignity is priceless..