Name: Jew-Fro
Age: 19
History: Started talking on Facebook the summer before college.
The Catch: Short. Slightly pudgy. Half-black AND Jewish...not a great genetic combination. Socially awkward. Spoiled rich kid. Still hung up on his Shrek-esque ex-girlfriend from home. Full-on metal mouth...with a condescending attitude to boot. Is that enough of a "catch" for y'all?
It was the first weekend of school. Jew-Fro and I had hung out a few times that week, and while he seemed to be attracted to me, the feeling, I decided, was so not mutual.
My friends and I had spent the evening out on the town with Jew-Fro's dorm neighbor (who we will call St. Louis Boy and will be an integral part of "the First Weekend, Part Two"). As the night wound down, he invited us to his room, and we accepted.
I hadn't been in St. Louis Boy's room for too long before my BlackBerry beeped with a text from Jew-Fro.
"Wherer are yoiuut?" (Obviously drunk.)
"Actually, I'm next door to you. Come say hi," I replied.
Jew-Fro informed me that he was on his way back from a party. Fifteen minutes later, there was a knock on St. Louis Boy's door. 'Twas Jew-Fro, of course, drunker than David Hasselhoff when he ate that hamburger.
He lingered in SLB's room for a few minutes, until I received another text. It was from JF.
"Letse make babires."
I looked up at him, trying not to laugh.
"We're going to hang out in my room next door," he told SLB and our other friends, gesturing to me. "Come on."
Once in his room, JF leaned in to kiss me. I pulled back.
"Are you kidding me? Please, let's get it on. You look amazing tonight. I want you so bad..."
Before I could say anything, JF threw me down on the bed, ripped my underwear off (I was wearing a dress), and got down to business.
I'm won't beat around the bush here...his audacity kind of turned me on for a millisecond, which is probably why I let it happen. Ew. Pretend I never said that, okay?
As quickly as it started, it was over. (And I mean quickly. Think under a minute...poor guy.) He rolled over and grew quiet.
I awkwardly sat on his single bed, wondering what to do next. If I returned to SLB's room, I knew I would surely be greeted with jeers from my friends for even going with JF in the first place and, it being the first weekend of school, I had no idea how to get to my dorm, so although a quick escape was preferred, it was out of the question.
"Is something wrong?" I asked him.
"I can't believe I just did that," he slurred, sprawled across his bed like a dead fish on the wet sand.
"Why? What's wrong?"
I, like most women, have always complained about guys who are too unemotional afterwards. Don't you hate it when they just roll over and go to sleep, barely pausing for a quick peck on the forehand? But, in the moments that followed, I almost wished that Jew-Fro was one of those men I had previously complained about.
For the next twenty minutes, I heard all about Shrek and how she'd broken his heart the previous week. It looked like I'd gotten my wish - a guy had gotten emotional afterwards, but, unfortunately, not in the way that I'd hoped.
Just as I sensed that our raft was nearing potential waterfalls, I decided that it was time to politely kick myself out.
"You seem tired; I should go."
"Fine," he sniffled like a three year old deprived of dessert. "I just want to be alone now."
"Okay, okay, I'm leaving. Where did you put my underwear?"
He lay limp on the mattress. "I'm so depressed..."
"...Any idea where it could be? That was one of my nicer pairs..."
"...I just want her back. How can I make her love me again?"
"Did you throw it somewhere?" I shrunk to my knees to search beneath his bed.
"I'm love her so much; she's my boo-bear."
Understandably, I'd had more than enough. "If you find my underwear, call me. It's black silk, although I don't think that there are that many other pairs of womens' underwear laying around your room." He looked up at me incredulously, his eyes glazed with drunkenness. "Oh, and I hope you feel better." With my foot, I pushed his trashcan so it stood beside his bed in case of...emergencies.
The moment I pushed the door shut, I thought I heard muffled sobbing, but I'll never know for sure.
It seemed as though the tables had turned. Was this what guys feel like when women want pillow talk? Should we, as the fairer sex, show more understanding when men aren't feeling particular chatty during the aftermath? From that night on, I began to approach "the aftermath" in a new way.
I think I just threw up in my mouth a little bit,
R
(To be continued...)
By the way, I'm interested in hearing all about your sexual skeletons and how they compare to Jew-Fro. Leave me comments.
"Wherer are yoiuut?" (Obviously drunk.)
"Actually, I'm next door to you. Come say hi," I replied.
Jew-Fro informed me that he was on his way back from a party. Fifteen minutes later, there was a knock on St. Louis Boy's door. 'Twas Jew-Fro, of course, drunker than David Hasselhoff when he ate that hamburger.
He lingered in SLB's room for a few minutes, until I received another text. It was from JF.
"Letse make babires."
I looked up at him, trying not to laugh.
"We're going to hang out in my room next door," he told SLB and our other friends, gesturing to me. "Come on."
Once in his room, JF leaned in to kiss me. I pulled back.
"Are you kidding me? Please, let's get it on. You look amazing tonight. I want you so bad..."
Before I could say anything, JF threw me down on the bed, ripped my underwear off (I was wearing a dress), and got down to business.
I'm won't beat around the bush here...his audacity kind of turned me on for a millisecond, which is probably why I let it happen. Ew. Pretend I never said that, okay?
As quickly as it started, it was over. (And I mean quickly. Think under a minute...poor guy.) He rolled over and grew quiet.
I awkwardly sat on his single bed, wondering what to do next. If I returned to SLB's room, I knew I would surely be greeted with jeers from my friends for even going with JF in the first place and, it being the first weekend of school, I had no idea how to get to my dorm, so although a quick escape was preferred, it was out of the question.
"Is something wrong?" I asked him.
"I can't believe I just did that," he slurred, sprawled across his bed like a dead fish on the wet sand.
"Why? What's wrong?"
I, like most women, have always complained about guys who are too unemotional afterwards. Don't you hate it when they just roll over and go to sleep, barely pausing for a quick peck on the forehand? But, in the moments that followed, I almost wished that Jew-Fro was one of those men I had previously complained about.
For the next twenty minutes, I heard all about Shrek and how she'd broken his heart the previous week. It looked like I'd gotten my wish - a guy had gotten emotional afterwards, but, unfortunately, not in the way that I'd hoped.
Just as I sensed that our raft was nearing potential waterfalls, I decided that it was time to politely kick myself out.
"You seem tired; I should go."
"Fine," he sniffled like a three year old deprived of dessert. "I just want to be alone now."
"Okay, okay, I'm leaving. Where did you put my underwear?"
He lay limp on the mattress. "I'm so depressed..."
"...Any idea where it could be? That was one of my nicer pairs..."
"...I just want her back. How can I make her love me again?"
"Did you throw it somewhere?" I shrunk to my knees to search beneath his bed.
"I'm love her so much; she's my boo-bear."
Understandably, I'd had more than enough. "If you find my underwear, call me. It's black silk, although I don't think that there are that many other pairs of womens' underwear laying around your room." He looked up at me incredulously, his eyes glazed with drunkenness. "Oh, and I hope you feel better." With my foot, I pushed his trashcan so it stood beside his bed in case of...emergencies.
The moment I pushed the door shut, I thought I heard muffled sobbing, but I'll never know for sure.
It seemed as though the tables had turned. Was this what guys feel like when women want pillow talk? Should we, as the fairer sex, show more understanding when men aren't feeling particular chatty during the aftermath? From that night on, I began to approach "the aftermath" in a new way.
I think I just threw up in my mouth a little bit,
R
(To be continued...)
By the way, I'm interested in hearing all about your sexual skeletons and how they compare to Jew-Fro. Leave me comments.
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