whxre.

My new year’s eve 2009 was unforgettable. By unforgettable, I mean I don’t remember counting down the new year. at all. Before I delve into the very forgettable night and even more forgettable sex, there is a precursor. The one and only time I’ve been dumped. 

My ex-boyfriend and I had been together for a year and a half. We were high school sweet hearts, but never dated in high school. Five days following our graduation, we decided to make it official after five years of playing cat and mouse. We had our summer love, then I had to relocate because of college. We were happy for 15 months following my move from my hometown to my dad’s house. Then I started going into Town. Halloween was my downfall. I got hooked on the drug called college life. Every Friday and usually Saturday, I would stay in Town to get drunk, rub my ass on some dick, and dance until the noise ordinance kicked in. Not once did I cheat on him. To this day I’m still amazed at my self-control. But self-control can last for only so long. So we went on a break. My choice. Following the break, I moved into Town. And that’s when the debauchery began.

Fast forward to New Year’s Eve 2009. I get a phone call from the ex saying he’s in LA and he wants to break up. I gave him five minutes of my tears and didn’t look back… until I woke up still very drunk the next morning, naked, in one of my favorite people’s bed.

The night started with one of my roommate’s finding the ONLY rager going on in Town that night. Everyone leaves for winter vacation so a few of the hardcore partiers came out of the woodworks for NYE. After getting slutted up and brushing off the night’s earlier events with a few strategically taken shots, we were ready to ring in 2010. B and the boys meet us at the apartment, with a handle of something cheap and strong, and we head to rager. I use that term lightly.

No music, just a couple hundred people milling around looking at each other under a flood light in an open space outside. Needless to say we needed to more intoxicated, fast. Due to the lack of chaser, handle pulls were our only option.

Blacked out new year’s blur.

I vaguely remember:

standing in the middle of the street with my roommate and seven or eight guys with a joint being passed around and the closest experience I’ve ever come to smoking

being in darkest, dankest apartment after midnight, holding out for the best New Year’s kiss I could find

Finding said New Years kiss with one of my boys

Having sex with said boy

Now I was incredibly drunk and understand his blood alcohol content had to have been hovering around toxic limits, but the sex was sobering. I sat on top of his half mast member, looking into his gorgeous face and all I could think was whomp whomp whomp. Yes, we had sex and yes, it was memorable in it’s forgettableness. Sheer disappointment flooded my veins, flushing out the alcohol and my hopes of pursuing anything with the man that lied under me. My Adonis turned into Gilbert Gottfried in two strokes. It was a rare occasion in which I didn’t come, which is a feat in and of itself.

But the most awkward part of the entire ordeal was his lack of consciousness in his groin, but unbeknownst to us, B had been sitting up straight, facing us in the couch directly across from my boy’s bed. To this day he swears he was passed out, but waking up to a tall, handsome black guy less than six feet away from the space that I had just been fucking in without any knowledge of his presence left me slightly annoyed and slightly turned on. So I fucked my boy again with much better results.

There is a superstition that what you do on new years is what you’ll do all year. I’m not a big believer in superstitions and myths, but this one was spot on.

Myth busted.