My heart was pounding. The blood and alcohol mixture in my body was throbbing in my ears. I felt a lump in my throat like I wanted to throw up, and for the first time ever, it wasn’t because of the tequila. I was about to get caught having sex in my sorority house–and the person doing the busting? None other than my house mom.
Yeah, your most embarrassing moment doesn’t look too bad now, huh?
It all started with the end. The end of my college career, the end of my sorority career, and the end of my tailgate career. I had reached the final semester of my undergrad years with flying colors and dazzling accomplishments. LOL JK, but I was graduating with an easy degree and mediocre grades, so whatever. It counts. Only problem? Even as I excitedly worked on tailoring (read: lying on) my résumé, sending cover letters off to shiny companies, and planning my mortarboard decorations, I was devastated. I was going to have to say goodbye to lounging by the pool every day, avoiding responsibilities, and worst of all, drinking for any and all occasions.
I was going to enter the (gulp) real world. But first, I was going to have a hell of a last semester.
I relived my freshmen year, getting drunk at disgusting college bars and “reconnecting” with the kid from my English class who took my “twin extra-long” virginity. I skipped classes, watched Netflix, and drank a bottle of wine a day. It was heaven.
But then, the day I had been dreading finally arrived: my last tailgate as an undergrad. I knew this wasn’t the end of drunken football festivities for me, but once you’re out of college, you have to start having a little more respect for yourself. So, I filled up my Bubba Keg, donned the sluttiest, beer gut-hiding outfit I could find, and I set off to get obliterated.
The next few hours were filled with flirting, tears, spills, shots, laughs, selfies, jealousy, and flip cup, so basically your standard tailgate. I was beyond the point of good judgment when the Fireball in me decided it was time to text my current flame. We agreed to go home together, but first, we needed food, and we needed it now. In my drunken haze, I remembered I had a delicious, fried food-filled late plate prepared for me at my sorority house. We stumbled off toward my house, where chicken fingers and bad decisions awaited.
We walked into the foyer of my home away from home to find it completely deserted. In that moment, the good judgment clouds cleared, and I knew what I had to do.
I had to have sex in my sorority house before I graduated. And I was going to do it in three…two…
I turned to my guy friend and told him to go into the guest bathroom and wait for me. I saw the shock, excitement, and disbelief cross his face, and I realized this was actually about to happen. I was going to fuck in a bathroom stall in my sorority house, and by God, it was going to be great.
Now, as a disclaimer, if I had been sober, there is no way in hell I would have considered doing it. Unfortunately for me and my self-respect, I wasn’t sober, so I told a new member to guard the door as I walked into the guest bathroom, ready to make Greek Row history. Thankfully, I was smart enough to lock both the door to the bathroom and the door to the stall we chose. With my inception of double-locked doors, I knew there was no way I’d get caught (LOL). I turned to the luckiest guy in the world, unbuttoned his pants, and started violating my chapter’s honor. The next 15 minutes are still a hazy memory. It was the epitome of hasty, drunken, bathroom stall sex. Considering the fact that we were beyond intoxicated, not only was it long (hello, whiskey dick) but it was loud. We were so caught up in the deliciously rebellious moment that at first, we didn’t hear the knock.
It wasn’t until I heard my name being shouted that I realized something wasn’t right. I removed the penis, and the man attached to the penis, from my body and pulled up my pants. I threatened his life as I told him to stay in the stall and remain silent. I opened the door to see my new member guard looking uncomfortable as she said, “Mama Claire was wondering if you were okay.” That’s when I saw her. The house mom. My eyes widened as she stared at me with disbelief, shame, and confusion.
Busted.
In that moment, I knew that my sorority membership, graduation, and standards-free streak were in jeopardy. I told the disgruntled house mother that I had been feeling very ill, and I threw up in the bathroom. Luckily, I had a wonderful guy friend who insisted on coming in and making sure I was okay. End scene.
I saw the complete lack of belief on her face as she told me to get cleaned up and get out. I put on my belt, told the poor guy to follow me, and proceeded to sprint out of my sorority house, shoes in hand and self-respect left behind.
I haphazardly texted the standards chair of my chapter and told her what happened. For the next week, I waited to receive an email saying that I was being kicked out of the chapter, the university, and that I had failed at life. That email never came. Finally, I confronted the chapter president and was told that the entire executive board thought what happened was hysterical. They not only respected me, but they weren’t going to do anything about it. God bless a mutual hate of house moms, huh?
Moral of the story? Be friends with your executive board, and if you do decide to get it on in your sorority house, don’t wait for his whiskey dick to come. And above everything else, always, always double-lock the doors..
Image via Shutterstock
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