For some incredibly odd reason I have met most of my serious flings on Halloween, and I only first realized this phenomenon while writing my book. The beginning of this Halloween tradition started my freshmen year of college, at a huge Halloween party off campus and near the beautiful beach. That year, my creativity in a Halloween costume was lacking; I was a sexy leopard. Yup, a sexy fucking leopard. I wore sexy leopard print lingerie from Victoria’s Secret, a headband with cat ears, and an awkward detachable tail, booty shorts that barely covered my ass cheeks, along with some ankle-breaking high heels. Throughout the night I received a number of questions regarding my choice in costume, and not once was I able to give a legitimate answer. After all, I didn’t really understand my costume either.
For most of the night, I was eyeing a really cute guy in a banana suit. He finally came up to me and we actually hit it off. Then the banana went to get us some drinks, and disappeared for a good half hour. It was GAME OVER when I found him passed out over the toilet later that night. I wasn’t interested in mingling, since the night was almost over, and the majority of the guys were about to end up like the banana praying to the porcelain God. So, I made my way to the lethal Jungle Juice and joined the rest of the party’s level of intoxication. While I was pouring my second cup, this guy with a ghetto bandana wrapped around his forehead and a Tupac shirt approached me.
“Hey, care to share the wealth,” he said.
“My bad, I was just trying to catch up with the rest of the party.”
“Yah, you know… Level of drunkenness,” I said, gulping the red beverage as fast as my throat would allow me.
“Got ya. Well, good luck, you’re about 2 more cups away from it.”
“Sweet,” I said, grabbing the ladle from his hand.
“By the way I’m________,” he said, “and you are?”
“I’m Briana, or Bree. Bree is easier to remember because it rhymes with pee.”
This is a line that my friends have always teased me about since I say it almost every time I meet someone when I’m drunken; However, I’m the one laughing in the end… no one has ever forgotten my name.
“Bree and pee. Yes, it does rhyme, and that’s something you should be very proud of since every time people see you, they’ll think of pee.” This guy was a smart ass and I kind of liked it. He was also pretty cute and tad nerdy, which I found sexy.
“So, how you getting home?”
“My friends D.D. tonight because she’s on antibiotics and can’t drink. Do you need a ride?”
“YES! That would be amazing! My ride is currently passed out over the toilet.”
His ride turned out to be the drunken banana… Yeah, it’s funny how fate works.
For the remainder of the night we talked and talked, and hit it off. He informed me that he was pledging in a fraternity. That was when he attained the name “Frat Boy” in my phonebook. I was excited to dive into my first “frat boy fling.”
Frat Boy and I hung out for the next couple of days. I wasn’t sure what Frat Boy’s intentions were, but it seemed like he was more interested in me than I was in him. After all, I had a single girl mindset; I was looking for a no-strings-attached deal. There was something empowering about having the upper hand in this situation. Then one fine evening, I received a phone call from Frat Boy, asking me to come over to his dorm and watch some movies with him (we all know what “watching movies” really means).
Because it was in a small dorm room, there was no other place to sit, but in his bed with him. And so, we snuggled, which then led to some lip-locking, which then led to some touching and feeling and groping, which then led to some other things. The more time I spent with this guy, the more I was beginning to really like him. Later that afternoon, I finally left our cycle of sexy time and snuggling, and on the two minute walk back to my dorm, there was only one thing on my mind: was my single life going to be cut short for a Frat Boy. Could this be?
The next week, Frat Boy invited me to a house party on top of campus. His several texts and phone calls convinced me that this kid really liked me. It was the first time I felt that I had a guy wrapped very tightly around my finger. So, I rounded up my girls and we hiked to this party on top of campus.
Turns out it wasn’t a rager, but there was definitely a fun and diverse group of stoners. The entire house was so thick with cigarette and marijuana smoke, it created somewhat of a creepy mysterious effect, and the smell of sour beer made it difficult to gulp down a fresh one. It seemed physically impossible to stay inside that house for more than one hour at a time, because you would either pass out from excessive smoke inhalation or choke on your own vomit from the putrid smell. Frat Boy was on beer-run and would be at the party soon, so I decided to get some fresh air and have a cigarette in the meantime.
Outside on the deck, there was another girl who seemed to have the same plan that I did. She was pretty with dirty blonde hair, shocking blue eyes, and flawless porcelain skin. I’m no lesbian, but the girl was seriously breathtaking, thus I was confused to why there wasn’t a mob of guys sexually harassing her. Maybe she was a complete bitch? Or maybe she has one of those annoying voices, which has the ability to make all penises flaccid and timid. I felt obligated to find out this girl’s deal.
“Is it just me, or is it really hard to breathe in there?” I asked.
“Oh my God, it’s ridiculous in there, I should have invested in a gas mask before this thing,” she replied, in a completely normal voice. I didn’t get it, she seemed funny and really sweet… and that’s something I wouldn’t normally say right away because I’m usually a skeptic of the idea that pretty girls can be genuine and nice.
“Seriously, right? It’s terrible. I’m Bree, by the way.”
“I’m Cara, nice to meet you,” she said smiling and appreciative to the fact that I wasn’t just another bitchy girl at the party.
We ended up having so much in common, and had the same random sense of humor. Cara was one of those rare girls who was completely nonjudgmental towards other girls, and had the potential for being a really good friend. After exchanging a few crazy party stories, and sucking down two more cigarettes, I felt Cara and I truly bonded.
“So, my friend isn’t here yet, and I don’t really know anyone else. Would you want to come with me to the bathroom, I’m going to touch-up my makeup,” she said.
Asking me to go to the bathroom with her was basically girl code for: I really like you, let’s be friends. So I accompanied her in the bathroom and saw it as an opportunity to fix myself up for Frat Boy, too.
“This is going to sound really dumb,” she said, “but I’ve got like butterflies right now. I really like the guy who invited me. He’s super hot and sexy, and just last night, we had the most A-MAZING sex. We’re definitely going to need a repeat of that tonight.”
“Geez girl, go get em’! It’s funny… I sort of have the same situation going on. This guy invited me, and at first, I wasn’t crazy about him, but he has really grown on me, and I think I’m actually starting to like him. The sex is awesome, he’s so cute and smart, and I don’t know… I wasn’t expecting to start anything with anyone my freshman year. But, this guy has potential,” I said.
“Aw, that’s so exciting, Hun! I don’t think I’d date my guy… this is my freshman year and I’m just looking for meaningless sex, you know? Good, meaningless, sex,” she said.
“Amen to that sister. Well, I’ll be cheering you on tonight.”
Just as we were about to leave the bathroom, I asked Cara what her boy toy’s name was, and she responded, “His name is __________,” (A.K.A. FRAT BOY). Suddenly, it felt like my heart disconnected itself and fell to my feet and my entire body was made of J-E-L-L-O. I decided not to tell Cara that we shared the same boy toy just yet. I wanted to see if Frat Boy would make moves on her or on me. And then I planned on telling my new girly friend the whole situation. Ultimately, I was hoping that this two-timing douche bag’s scheme would blow up in his face.
Immediately, I ran over to my other girlfriends and filled them in on my ordeal. My friend Stephanie was especially outraged; she tends to be my protective mother bear in these types of situations. While I was grabbing a beer out of our stash, suddenly I heard yelling and cussing from the other side of the room. I turned around to see my drunken mother bear, Stephanie, screaming at Frat Boy.
“You know what you are? You are the filthiest scum of the earth. You’re disgusting! Absolutely repulsive! How could you play my best friend like that? She is a kind, beautiful, human being! How do you live with yourself?” (I know, a little dramatic, but that’s why I love her).
Frat Boy looked terrified and utterly confused. Nearby, was Cara, who also looked horrified and in shock. At that point, all I wanted to do was dig a hole in ground, crawl into it, and die. My plan took a sudden detour into a pit of raging fire. Shit.
Cara started walking over to me. Shit! I was more than tempted to just dart out of there and run all the way back to my dorm to never be seen on upper campus again; but I knew I had some responsibility to fill the girl in. Besides, we had just become good friends an hour ago.
“I’m really, really confused,” she said, “Isn’t that your friend? What is she talking about?”
“Okay, I was going to tell you at first, but I was in shock when you said his name. Basically, we have the same boy toy. For some very odd reason, he invited us both, even though he has been playing us both.” She started laughing and suddenly I was confused. Why the hell was she laughing about it?
“I don’t care,” she said, “I told you, I’m in it for the meaningless sex. It really doesn’t bother me. I wasn’t expecting him to be faithful to me.”
Umm, I didn’t know whether to be impressed by indifferent attitude, or to be weirded out by it.
“The question is, do YOU like him more than just a friend with benefits?” she asked.
“You know what? Actually, I don’t. Not anymore at least,” I said, laughing at how easy that decision was.
“Then let’s turn this whole thing around on him, and weird him out,” she said.
“How are we going to do that?”
“Let’s be buddy-buddy all night; we’ll act like we don’t care that he just ‘played’ us, and we’ll flirt together with him. He won’t be able to handle it. You know him, he’ll get overwhelmed,” she explained.
All right, this girl was brilliant. She signed us up for a game of beer pong, so that we could put on a show for Frat Boy, and hopefully confuse the fuck out of him. While we were arranging the red solo cups, I felt a tap on my shoulder- it was Frat Boy.
“Can I talk to you for a second?” he asked.
“Yeah, sure,” I said.
I followed Frat Boy outside onto the deck. Strangely enough, he didn’t have a look of guilt or embarrassment on his face; instead, it seemed flattered by the drama of two girls “fighting” over him. Yet, Frat Boy did put on this whole act, as though he wasn’t really the bad guy, and actually felt bad about everything that just went down. He took an overly dramatic deep breath and looked past me like he was about to tell me something that would change my life.
“So your friend is pretty intimidating- not going to lie… but look, I’m really sorry you feel that I played you, but I thought we were just hook-up buddies, nothing serious. The way I see it- I’m a freshman in college, I’m not looking for a relationship right now…So I definitely don’t want to feel committed and tied down to one girl, you know what I mean? And, I thought I made it clear that we weren’t going to be anything serious, did I not?”
“Actually you weren’t too clear. I’m sorry that my friend blew up at you like that-she’s just very protective of me. To be honest, I’m not mad, sad, or upset, but I guess I was just confused. I thought you thought of me as more than a friend. . But now I understand, and I’m okay with it. No hurt feelings, I promise,” I said.
Frat Boy seemed a bit shocked that I was handling this so well. In a way, he looked disappointed that I didn’t want to put up a fight for him. It was true though- I really didn’t care. I was kind of relieved that I found out he was a dirt bag before I got really hooked on him.
“Well, you never know- I mean, maybe someday we might be something more than friends. I can see us having a relationship in the future… I guess what I’m trying to say is never say never. I do like you, Bree. You’re really a chill girl, really,” he said.
As if the kid stood a chance with me ever again. HA-HA-HA, yeah right!
“Yeah, maybe. But look, I’m totally fine if you hook up with Cara, she’s a great girl. We actually just became friends like an hour ago. Anyways, like I said, no hurt feelings. We’re good! I’m okay with being just friends. Now if you will excuse me, I have a game of pong to lose,” I said trying to reduce the agonizing awkwardness.
“Hah, okay, I’m glad we cleared all this up, babe. Go have fun tonight, “ he said, opening his arms for a hug.
I’m really not a fan of hugging douche bags, so I satisfied his embrace with the kind of hug you give a dirty drunk old man at a bar… just to be nice so he’ll leave you alone.
I went back inside and saw Cara sipping a bottle of rum (she was definitely my type of girl). When she saw me, she did a slow-motion jog over, squeezing me into her embrace.
“Is everything okay? Did you clear things up with him?” she whispered into my ear.
“Yes, everything is now crystal clear, we’re good.”
“Okay good! You didn’t tell him our plan, did you?”
“Nope! Operation ‘Weirding Out The Douche bag’ starts now,” I said in a vengeful tone.
Cara and I played beer pong against two kids that looked like a Caucasian version of Cheech and Chong. Frat Boy sat down on a couch facing the table. I took a few swigs of the rum and it was GAME ON! The two of us became a PG-13 version of Girls Gone Wild. We were all over each other, constantly hugging, arms linked, and kissing each other on the cheek. We both gave Frat Boy some stares that suggested we we’re a team and not enemies. Sucka!
Cheech and Chong got a free show and made some courageous attempts to flirt with Cara and I… But, we were focused on seeking some revenge on one particular audience member, who was still seated on the couch, appearing to be incredibly ill at ease. Not only was my partner in crime and I victorious in our game of beer pong, but we had also accomplished our mission of vengeance. Frat Boy was so uncomfortable that he actually got up and left the party. Mission accomplished.
That night, I didn’t get mad, I didn’t get even, but I did do the unexpected. It’s rare to have the opportunity to team up with the “other girl,” or the other victim. It was sort of an empowering experience being the stronger one and gaining complete control of the situation. Nothing went according to Frat Boy’s Plan A (going home with one girl that night), or Plan B (having two girls fight over him). Instead, he went home alone, confused, and hopefully a little wiser from the mistakes he made. That night, I gained a friend and lost a two-timing frat boy… They say: “you win some, you lose some,” but I think I won either way.