So, you’re back from spring break. Take a moment to congratulate yourself for surviving a week of excessive sun exposure and alcohol consumption. You deserve it. It’s possible that you spent your week off in a state of peaceful relaxation, sipping non-caffeinated beverages, and flipping through Nicholas Sparks novels. However, I’m willing to bet that you spent your time in a relatively tropical region, riding the shoulders of your drunkest friend, screaming obscenities at strangers, and hoisting beer bongs for fellow partiers. Spring break was loud and obnoxious and exhausting and awesome–and yes, I’m mainly referring to your most shameful and random drunken hookup.
Maybe you got it on with a boy with the heart of gold who was a total gentleman and took down your number before making sure you got safely back to your temporary home. More realistically, you banged it out with a James Franco wannabe, who spent the entire week neglecting proper personal hygiene and screaming “SPRAAANG BREAK!” after throwing back shots of bottom shelf tequila and crushing cans of Natty. You know, the kid who started listening to Skrillex in 2010 and is constantly telling people that he is “not drunk.” People probably judged you for the lewd acts you performed with this guy, but you got past that pretty quickly by reciting, “fuck it, I’m on break” (and, of course, downing another brightly-colored and poorly calculated mixed drink). You shouldn’t feel bad. Break was the time to let your freak flag fly and to do all the weird things you wouldn’t do on a campus full of familiar faces.
Now you’re home, and while you’ve washed off all of the sand and dried liquor from your somewhat tanned body, you just can’t seem to scrub away that last load of regret. Allow me to help guide you through the following inevitable stages that accompanied this drunken hookup.
Denial
By now, you’ve probably denied the tale a solid 10 times and told people that no, you did not hook up with him. You are a dirty, dirty liar. Eventually, you’ll admit to making out with him, because you did it in broad daylight in front of at least 30 people, and you have no other choice but to confess. Seriously, just tell the truth. There is most likely photo evidence.
Confronting The Situation
It’s time to come to terms with the fact that you hooked up with a kid who’s tagline is, “Hold my beer and watch this.” Do your best to remember all the weird aspects of the hookup that you’ve tried desperately to push out of whatever memory you hold of the scenario–like when you accidentally scratched his back and he yelped due to an intense sunburn. These stories will be useful at a later date when you’re drunk and your girlfriends are in need of a good laugh.
Identifying The Culprit
It’s probably best that you don’t stalk him. Seriously, stay off of his Facebook. There’s going to be a lot of weirdness on there that you don’t want to see, as you are already traumatized by the incident. I hope, for your sake, that your suitor does not go to your school. If he does, it’s 100 percent acceptable to act like you don’t know him if you come across each another. Just look straight ahead and save the two of you an incredibly awkward conversation that neither of you are seriously interested in having.
#NoRagrets
To quote the revered Kevin G., “Don’t let the haters stop you from doing yo thang.” Yes, it was probably a bad decision to get it on with a “Jersey Shore” lookalike who most likely eats cereal out of red Solo cups, but you know you had fun. You’re young enough to emotionally and mentally recover from the incident by the time you hit any major life landmarks. Remember that you are awesome, and sometimes awesome people black out and do things they regret with not-so-awesome people. Take your regretful hookup and be proud, because you are a crazy bitch who took full advantage of a consequence-free week. Now, you have some funny tales to never (ever) tell the kiddos. You go, Glen Coco.
Nice Move280
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Lucky Jo
Lucky Jo is a former and current TSM writer who likes her men how she likes her coffee: way too hot and unforgivably bitter. She graduated from the University of Missouri in 2016, proving that C's do in fact get degrees. She now spends her days working for a social media marketing agency, hiking with her dachshund, and trying to bring back the scrunchie. Hate mail and goat memes can be sent to lucyjmulvihill@gmail.com.
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