Harvard Memoir of Rape

Stories of Rape at Harvard University

The Sexual Escapades of a Harvard Undergrad 

(yes, they do exist)

By Patrick Magnarelli

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South Park Hits the Nail on the Head!

Table of Contents


Prologue

p. 5 8th Grade Girl

p. 8 My First Lesbian

p. 12 My Second Lesbian/First Coke W***e

p. 16 Slip n’ Slide

p. 18 Slip n’ Slide Part II

p. 22 The Inspiration For This Book

p. 35 My Third Lesbian

p. 39 The Best I Ever Had

p. 44 Potato Sack Girl

p. 47 Mystery Story

p. 50 The One That Never Was

p. 54 The Hipster

p. 57 The One To Forget

p. 60 The Islander

p. 62 Sugar Momma

p. 65 Summer Lovin’

p. 72 Update On The Inspiration For This Book

Epilogue


Before you begin reading here are a few things that I feel important to mention:

I am an ex Harvard athlete and I work at Boingo call center in Los Angeles. My father John Magnarelli and girlfriend Brogan Berryare my biggest supporters. Please visit my linkedin page.



Prologue

Thank you for choosing to spend your time reading about my life, as opposed to trying to improve yours with something more meaningful. It really does mean a lot to me. Although there is a high chance I have no idea who you are, and our paths will never cross, I’m looking forward to going on this journey through my better years together. You might be asking yourself, “Self, will I learn some useful tips for picking up girls? Will I learn how to get into Harvard? Will I actually become dumber after reading this?” The answers to these questions are no, no, probably, and no. This book is not meant to educate. It is not meant to be a how-to guide on anything. It is simply a way to enjoy your own life vicariously through me. (For those of you who had to go back a few sentences prior and make sure that there were only 3 questions to be answered and not 4, the dumbification has already begun). But seriously folks, I am not a writer. I am not a reader. I actually hate reading: almost as much as an old dog that is trying to sleep hates a young child who keeps waking him up because he has nothing better to do and thinks the dog smells funny and wants to ride it like a pony. The only types of books I have ever read for pleasure are non-fiction. I enjoy a good biography on someone who is a total boss, or those quirky psych-style books by Malcolm Gladwell that make you think a little bit. I’m not going to sit down and read a stupid fiction book about trolls and fantasy land and good-looking women that cook and clean. Just not my style. That’s why I decided to write this book. The stories are all completely true, so suck it all you nay-sayers. I’m not trying to be the next big thing. Actually, I would prefer not to write ever again after this. I don’t know what I would write about. This is kind of it for me. Sad, yes. But not really.

This was an easy write for me. Really took no effort at all. I’ve written some 10-page papers throughout college that I absolutely dreaded. The research involved, the weeks I spent procrastinating. Just terrible. This, however, was easy because the research had been done for the past 5 years or so. Just some real nice investigative field research. The kind that you see on Fox News where a reporter gets to the down and dirty about cat pageants and stuff. The idea came to me on a flight from Los Angeles to Boston (actually it came to me about 15 minutes before I started writing this because I’m still on the plane now). I was in one of those moods where you try to pass the time by thinking about sex. For us men, that happens every few minutes or so. Anyways, I started thinking back to some of the girls that I had fornicated with throughout the years. I was filled with mixed emotions: happiness, remorse, disgust, intrigue, hunger. I thought to myself, “Self, you have done some fucked up stuff in your life. What is wrong with you?” After my initial thoughts, I realized that I can’t keep these stories bottled-up inside of me. The only people that knew about these escapades were my closest friends, some 10 year-olds (we’ll get to that later), and maybe a farm animal or two. My friends always looked at me after I told them one of my stories with utter shock and awe. It actually came to be a running joke amongst us all: “What sorts of stupid s**t is Pat going to do this weekend?” After I realized that the types of things that happen to me aren’t quote-unquote normal, I decided I must write a tell-all memoir (I didn’t feel like using quotes for that last part. I got tired of hitting the quote-button thing. F**k quotes).

Most of these stories come from my undergrad years at Harvard. Those would be from the Fall of 2006 to the Spring of 2010, for all of those keeping track at home. A few do come from the two years after graduation that I spent living in Santa Monica, California, but the bread and butter are from college. As you will find with many of these stories, I don’t have much “game” (I used quotes that time just to f**k your mind and keep you guessing). I put in very little effort when it comes to courting a lady. I rarely approach girls at bars and ask them to allow me to gratuitously hump their buttocks with my hard-on on the dance floor. I send out the cool I-don’t-care-if-you-come-up-to-me-and-talk-to-me-because-I’m-enjoying-hanging-out-with-my-friends-but-I-won’t-say-no-if-you-do-realize-that-you-want-some-Pat-in-your-life look. More times than not, if I do see a girl whom I’d like to give my loving to, she will come up to me. Not bragging, just spitting facts. Remember this is all non-fiction. My roommate, Alek, was convinced it was my facial hair that tickled girls fancies (yes that is a pun because as you will discover later, I enjoy a good felattio session). All throughout college, I always had some sort of facial hair. Sometimes it was a well-trimmed goatee, sometimes a scraggly beard, but never cleanly shaven. Alek thought that girls loved the fact that I would let it grow out because it added to the don’t-give-a-f**k attitude of talking to girls. He might have been right.

I was on the basketball team at Harvard, before people actually knew we had a team. I stepped foot on campus freshman year and people gave me puzzled looks when I told them that yes, Harvard does have a basketball team. Nowadays, everyone knows that, since they won the national title in 2012 (keep in mind that it is April 12th, 2011 when I’m writing this so we’ll see if that happens). I never thought that being on the team would ever help in the feminine luring ways of life at school, but I did discover that to be incorrect. If there is one thing I learned from my time at Harvard, it’s that college girls are college girls, no matter what school you go to. Whether you’re a cheerleader at USC, the daughter of a Southern-Baptist minister at Gordon College, or a smart chick at Harvard, they all share a common bond of affinity for the male member; just as all college guys enjoy a nice vagina, girls like a good dick. Harvard was no different, except for the really smart girls whose idea of a wild Saturday night was venturing to the archives section of Widener Library to visit the exhibit on Colonial Massachusetts, which closed at 7 pm. Harvard girls would get drunk, go dance, find a guy, or two, or three, and make some bad decisions. Yes, mothers and fathers, for those of you who decided to send your daughters to the best school in the world and were then bold enough to read a book entitled “The Sexual Escapades of a Harvard Undergrad”, I pity you. You’re just going to have to cope with the fact that your little Susie might come home for Thanksgiving break freshman year with a little bump and a boyfriend named Tyrel. But I digress.

Another thing that immensely helped in giving girls the hot beef injection was being in a final club. For those of you who didn’t see The Social Network, final clubs are part frats, part sex dens. The main point of these houses was to hold parties on the weekends and allow underage people to get fucked up and go home with somebody. Nobody lived in the houses, so they weren’t exactly frats, but people rushed them, went through initiation, and paid dues, so they had the same feel. I was in the Owl for a few semesters: the money wasn’t worth it after awhile because I knew everyone in the club, so I could easily get into parties anyways. Most of the tales in this book begin at the Owl, or another final club. They just oozed sex. Say that sentence again to yourself: They oozed sex. You feel a little dirty now, don’t you? It makes you feel even dirtier when I change the font: oozed sex. I got carried away again. I apologize. But, yes, these final clubs were an absolute sex haven that added to about 95% of the sex that undergrads had at school.

So now that I’ve given you a little intro into my life, let’s start the show. These stories are not meant to embarrass anyone, although I’m sure they will for the females involved. I didn’t really feel like changing the names of any of the girls, as I felt it would have taken away the authenticity of the tale. Therefore, I apologize to anyone in advance if you never told your friends about me and they are just finding out now about the defiling that took place. These stories are also not meant to disgust, anger, or upset anyone, although, once again, I’m sure they will. Sorry mom. Like I said earlier, they are meant to give you a better understanding of what goes on at a school like Harvard and make you realize that humans are humans, no matter what their SAT scores are. From here on out, there will just be stories about my conquests. I have not listed all of the girls that I have slept with because some of them are just normal happenings: not book-worthy. However, for those that have a special place in my heart, each girl has a chapter dedicated to her. I have aptly named each one based on something you will find out while reading it. As you will find with some of them, they span over multiple months and even years. For those that do, I have broken down each encounter into parts. Very inquisitive of me, right? Not bad for a Harvard guy. In addition, I’ve tried to keep them as chronological as possible, in order to give you a sense of timing. However, for some it’s harder, as they span over years. For those ones, you’ll just have to use your deductive reasoning skills to figure it out: I have faith in you, don’t worry. I’ll meet back up with you at the end of the book to see what types of questions you might have. Enjoy…






































































8th Grade Girl

Okay, to clarify, this is not a story about me f*****g an 8th grader. Get your minds out of the gutter. Sick f***s. This tale does in fact start back in 8th grade, however. Her name was Kathryn and she was my first real girlfriend. I say real because we all had those girlfriends in 5th grade that we talked to once a week maybe through a note, but never actually hung out with, and then had one of our friends break up with her for you. So this was the first girl that I dated who I actually hung out with and spoke to on the phone. Big step for Pat.

Now I’m not going to bore you with details about our 8th grade relationship, since this story is about the relationship we had in college. However, there are some important factors leading up to our escapades in college. First of all, we got pretty frisky for 8th graders (at least we did when I envision what 8th graders back in 2001 should be doing). I feel like kids are starting to f**k at 6th grade recess now, but that‘s beside the point. After school, we would sneak around behind the building and she would give me hand-jobs (didn’t see that one coming did you). Basically, I was going through that stage when I was pretty much horny every day, not that that has changed now, but it was the first time in my life that I yearned for sex. She did a good job at satisfying a little, but we never did anything more. Actually we did do a little more, which was probably a little more intense for 8th graders than hand-jobs. We had phone sex a few times. I use the term “phone sex” pretty leniently here, as most of the time I just wanted to jerk off and I happened to be on the phone with her at the time. She would tell me that she started pleasuring herself, which I'm not even certain she was doing, and I would start going at it.

A few days after we tried it for the first time, I wrote a note to her explaining how we should do it again and how awesome it was. She wrote back to me on the same paper and I ended up keeping it in my pocket, by accident. That night, when my mom was picking me up from basketball practice, she told me how she was doing laundry and something fell out of my pocket. I immediately feared the worst, and of course it had happened. My mom obviously got curious as to what the paper said, so she read it. Eeeks. She was appalled and disgusted and furious as to what was going on between Kathryn and me. She told me how she thought she was too “fast” for me, which I chuckled at. Although she made these claims, she never stopped us from hanging out, which I thought was weird. Maybe my mom wanted me to get my rocks off? Weird? Sort of.

Things went on until the end of 8th grade, and then she went to a boarding school for high school, so I never saw her. That was until the summer between freshman and sophomore year in college.

As I had a girlfriend my senior year of high school and we stayed together through the end of freshman year of college, this summer was the first time in awhile that I was actually single. I’m not sure exactly how it got started, but basically Kathryn and I had been talking a little during the summer time. I think it was just one of those random drunk nights when I got back home, went online and started saying stupid s**t to her. Things escalated quickly and before I knew it, she wanted me to sneak out of my house to come over and see her. I had never done anything like that. I was in college now, but I was still living under my parents rules for the summer. I mustered up the courage to do it and before I knew it, I was on my drive crosstown to her house. Her parents were out of town for the weekend, so when I got there we basically cut straight to the chase. Both of us knew why we were seeing each other, so there was no reason to sugar coating anything. She started blowing me and I just remember thinking to myself, “Self, I went an entire year of dating this girl and all I got was a hand-job. Now, I haven’t talked to her in 4 years and just like that, she’s blowing me. What a country.”

After we finished, I went home, went back to the school for the fall and that was it. She went to college down south, so I figured we wouldn’t see each other for another year or so, if that. However, she always came home each year for Thanksgiving and Christmas. She basically turned into this holiday f**k buddy.

After our first encounter during the summer of 2007, she ended up visiting me at school that fall during Thanksgiving break. We watched a Red Sox game and then as soon as Big Papi struck out, we started making out. I was fully expecting to have sex with her; why else would she have come up to visit me? It was the first time we had sex and I’ll tell you what boy, it was bad. I hadn’t fucked in probably 5 months and I ended up busting in about a minute, if that. No, it was probably more like 30 seconds. Not my proudest moment. She kind of laughed at me and said, “So I’ll take that as my sign to leave.” Once again, I thought that was going to be it, until she came back for more during spring break. This time I was more prepared. I’d like to believe she was more satisfied the second time around, but that’s just me. I ended up seeing her maybe 3 times a year, and each time she would just come up to campus, f**k me, and leave. There were definitely a few highlights though.

My junior year, I had a bomb-a*s room. At Harvard, everyone lives on campus for all 4 years, but you pick a group of people you want to live with and choose different rooms within the same building each year. Since I got screwed my sophomore year with a double the size of a standard single, I got first pick when it came to rooms junior year. I picked this huge room with a fireplace, built in bar, and pushed two beds together to form a king. I was pretty satisfied with myself. Anyways, back to the story. So the basketball team had to stay on campus over Christmas break, which was always a downer. However, that meant that Kathryn could come visit me. And come she did (boom!). I met her at the T (that’s the train for all you non-Boston folks). Brought her back to my room, and commenced the f*****g. We ended up banging 4 times that night, as my girlfriend and I had recently broken up (we’ll get to that story later), so I needed to let out some sexual frustration. I threw her around a little bit and she actually smacked her head against the wall pretty hard. I literally thought I knocked her out. She was definitely a little woozy, but I remained inside her the entire time, so we just kept going. I think around the third time we were going at it, I actually was getting a little tired, so I faked it. I don’t think I’m the only guy to fake it. And ladies you might wonder why, or even how, guys would fake it. Well, my friends, sometimes you just know that it’s not going to happen. You don’t have the sensation in your happy place and you’re just going around in circles. That was what I was getting, since we fucked twice in the past hour, so I just decided to put on my o-face, make a few noises, and pull out. No harm no foul. We went at it again later that night, after I had some time to recharge, so I think everything worked out for the better.

Another visitation was pretty much a conjugal visit. It was senior year and Kathryn was once again home for a holiday break. She said she wanted to come up to campus to see me, so I obliged. This time, I didn’t even go out of my room to get her from the T. She knew the route to my dorm by now. All of my roommates only knew her as 8th grade girl. I would tell them that Kathryn was coming to visit and they had no idea who I meant. As soon as I said 8th grade girl, they understood. However, it always seemed like there was one new person in the conversation (I did have 15 roommates after all) every time I said “8th grade girl”, so then I would have to explain that I was not in fact having sex with an 8th grader. Anyways, all of my roommates were in our common room when she showed up. After a quick hello, we went into my bedroom and started f*****g. No f*****g around, just f*****g. My roommates couldn’t believe that this was our relationship: just straight sex. She had no shame in that and she didn’t care that they knew what was up. One of my buddies, who was new to the 8th grade girl thing, didn’t believe it, so he actually walked up to the door to my bedroom in the middle of it, just to see if we were actually f*****g. His cell phone rang and I could hear him laugh and run away. I don’t think she got flustered at all, as she didn’t say anything. After we finished, she threw on a pair of my shorts and a t-shirt. We walked out to the common room where everyone was still sitting and watching a movie. They couldn’t believe that she came out in my clothes. She really didn’t give a f**k. Like she didn’t care if they knew we had just fucked. She embraced it. Bravo, Kathryn, bravo. After about an hour, she got dressed and peaced. When I walked back up to my room, I was met with blank stares.

“Did that really just happen?” remarked one roommate.

“Dude, she has absolutely no shame,” said another.

No, no she did not. She knew her role. That was the last time I’ve seen her.

Going back to our first encounter the summer between freshman and sophomore year, I think that set the stage for what my sophomore year was going to be like.





























































My First Lesbian

Not really hiding anything with the title here. Just getting right to the good stuff. Not f*****g around, as some would say.

It was the fall of 2007: sophomore year at Harvard. My first time in a few years that I was actually single. I experienced college my freshman year as more of an onlooker to deviant happenings. Obviously I could see that hooking up with girls in college would be much easier than in high school. No longer did you have to explain to your parents why so-and-so was coming over the house, or have to sneak out late at night to meet up with your special lady. You could literally walk across the hall and bang, that was it. As a single man, I had a feeling that I would probably be dabbling in the nature of the booty call.

Anywho, it didn’t take too long for me to find the apple of my eye sophomore year. Her name was Caitlin (this is not the lesbian, so relax for the time being). Caitlin was a cool chick; kind of annoying at some points, but cool nonetheless. She was the epitome of the hang-out-with-the-guys girl. She used words like c**t and loved watching football and basketball: a classy all around chick. We started hooking up in October or so. One road block: she was a virgin and wanted to wait. I, on the other hand, was ready to get cracking. I felt like I was already behind from freshman year, as to what college was supposed to be like. She would blow me every now and then, and it was okay, but nothing great. Things were going alright. Definitely not boyfriend-girlfriend, as we never went out to eat, talked about stuff like couples do, etc. It was more of a dating/hooking up thing. I didn’t really start looking at any other girls, until She came along.

I was sitting in the dining hall with my buddies one December day enjoying a hearty meal, when 4 of our girlfriends sat down next to us. They were all seniors and actually brought a new girl that I had never seen before to lunch. Her name was Kelsey. We all started talking and soon, I started piecing little tid-bits together and deduced that she was in fact, a rug-muncher. This came as a shock to me. Coming from a small suburban Massachusetts town, I had never really met any lesbians before. However, there were frothing amounts of lesbians at Harvard. Just a very liberal campus with regards to everything. I sort of brushed off the fact that she liked vagina and went along with the conversation like nothing was different. We all went our separate ways, and that was about it.

About a week later, my roommate’s sister, who also happened to be at the lunch with us that day, was hanging out with us. Somehow Kelsey came up in conversation and she mentioned how Kelsey thought I was cute. This is when my mind started to become blown. Like fully blown. I was a little confused and inquired about how lesbians could find a man cute. She informed me that Kelsey was actually bisexual and had dated a few guys in high school, but now preferred the fairer sex. Six to Midnight like that. As any other guy would do, I immediately pushed us hanging out on my roommate’s sister. She then broke the news to me that she was actually seeing someone: a girl. That was sort of it for me. I obviously wasn’t looking to break anyone up and I still had a thing going with Caitlin, so I didn’t pursue anything further.

January 11th, 2008: The day that changed my college life forever. We had a game up at Dartmouth. I had been playing really well, recently, after missing almost all of my freshman year with a back injury. We had beaten Dartmouth by 25 a week earlier at home and I had one of my best career games. Obviously, I, along with the rest of the team, had plenty of confidence going up against the Big Green the second time around. The second minute of the game, I was running down the court and banged knees with a Dartmouth player. Now this was no normal banging of knees. I was sliding to my right and he decided to block me off. The outside of my leg was stopped short by his knee and my kneecap decided to keep on traveling on its prior route to the right. Basically, my knee cap sling-shotted out to the right and then came back in. It was the most intense pain I had ever felt. Worse than breaking fingers, spraining ankles, and fracturing a vertebra. I went down hard with a slew of expletives. My teammates had to carry me off the court. Within 10 minutes, you could no longer see my kneecap. All you could see was a giant blob where my shin and thigh connected. I couldn’t put any pressure on it for about a week. If I tried, I would just fall over. I was upset, to say the least. Obviously, this was not how I was envisioning my sophomore winter to go. Especially because we now had 2 weeks off from class for finals, which took place in January back in the day at Harvard. After the last final was taken in about the third week of January, we would get another week off from class until second semester started up in February. This extra week off is where the tale resumes.

Most kids would go back home for this extra week. However, athletes in winter sports had to stay, for obvious reasons. This included basketball, hockey, and most importantly, track. Kelsey was on the track team, for those who couldn’t put that one together. With nothing really else to do on campus, the track team held a huge party one night in one of the suites of a dorm. This dorm happened to be up in the quad of Harvard, which was separated from the rest of the university. Quite a venture for someone on crutches. Luckily, there was a shuttle, and my other teammate, Darryl, was also on crutches from a knee surgery. We did rehab together during practice, so we became pretty close. We decided to head up to the quad to our captain’s room for some party sodas before we headed to the track party.

As soon as we got off the shuttle, we bumped into Kelsey. She was walking around with another girl, who happened to be the girl she was seeing. I didn’t put this together and thought nothing of it. She told us that we should stop by the party later on. When we got inside of our captain’s room, Caitlin called. She was on campus as well, as she was on the basketball team. She and all of her teammates were back in Harvard Square at some bar. She wanted all of us to come down. We wanted nothing to do with it. She called back a few more times, but I just ignored them. At this point, I wasn’t feeling Caitlin as much. I was pissed from my knee, pissed about seeing a virgin, and just wanted to let loose.

By this time, Darryl and I had done enough rehab where we could hobble along without our crutches, especially when intoxicated. We went up to the party, which was basically a giant common room. There were about 50 people in there, dancing, drinking; a pretty standard college party. After about 30 minutes, a few of my other teammates showed up. I noticed my teammate dancing with Kelsey. And then I noticed my teammate making out with Kelsey. What?! Once again, mind blown. I thought to myself, “Self, what the f**k is going on here?” A few songs later, I noticed another one of my teammates dancing with Kelsey. As fate would have it, I then noticed my teammate making out with Kelsey. This teammate happened to be hooking up with Kelsey’s roommate at the time. Big no-no. I was convinced at this point, that Kelsey was fair game. Obviously, her girlfriend was not around and she still liked guys. I stumbled in, leaving my crutches against the wall to explore the dance floor. Not too long after the beginning of the courtship, she asked if I wanted to go back to her room, since it was in the same dorm. Six to Midnight again. I grabbed my crutches and headed back to her room.

Once there, we wasted no time. Clothes started flying off. My knee brace stayed on, as I figured I’d probably need it to function properly. After some brief foreplay, I entered her. I couldn’t believe this was actually happening. At this point in my life, the craziest thing I had done sexually was f**k my girlfriend in my car. Now I was banging a lesbian?! Quite the jump. A comical part of the evening came when I was behind her kneeling on the bed and I completely lost balance: half from the alcohol and half from my knee. I fell off the bed and landed hard on the floor. Like any good cowboy, I brushed it off and got back on the horse. Things continued on for a while and eventually, we went to sleep.

As an aside, my friends always gave me s**t, later on in college, and thought it was weird that I always stayed the night with girls. “Why would you want to stay and have to wake up to the awkwardness in the morning?” they would say. “Um, obviously to bone again. Duh.” In this case, I felt like I had to stay because of my handicap, but I probably would have stayed anyways.

When we woke up in the morning, there was definitely some awkwardness. We kind of looked at each other like, “What the f**k happened?” I find myself pretty good at quelling awkward sexual situations. Some times by cracking jokes and, in this case, by warming up the oven again. We started it back up and then she asked if I wanted to use lube.

“You have lube?”

“What kind of lesbian would I be if I didn’t have lube?”

“Touche. Lube it up!”

And lube it up she did.

After another session of sweet, passionate slapping of body parts, I called up my handicap shuttle and got a ride back to the Square. The entire team was actually heading over to an alumni’s house for lunch, so I needed to get my life in order before meeting anyone of importance. Obviously, when I met up with my teammates, they asked me how my night went, as they saw me slink away with Kelsey. And as any athlete knows, you do have to tell your teammates about all of your sexual exploits, whether you’re a guy or girl. Girls, I know you talk about that stuff in the locker room too, so don’t try to play it off. After the initial excitement of what happened, the aftermath started to set in.

I didn’t talk to Caitlin for a few days, and when I eventually did, she obviously asked what happened that night. I explained how I just got too drunk and ended up crashing at my captain’s place. She asked if I hooked up with anyone and I replied with an obvious no. I thought everything was cool, until I realized that Kelsey was good friends with one of the girls on the team. Eventually, everything came out. I’m not really sure how it started, but it pretty much just snowballed. Caitlin found out, Kelsey’s roommate found out, Caitlin’s “girlfriend” found out. Fit really hit the shan. Everyone shunned Kelsey and me, except for her girlfriend (who apparently was cool with everything?) and her friend on the team. I tried apologizing to Caitlin, but she wouldn’t talk to me. Her teammates all hated me, except for Kelsey’s friend Katie. Kelsey and I only talked a few times after our first meeting, as she and her girlfriend got pretty serious and I think are actually still dating today.

A few weeks later, when none of the girl’s team was talking to me, Darryl decided to stop by my room before a game. We usually walked down together, as neither of us was actually playing. He was helping me set up a gmail account for myself, since gmail looked super sweet. I stepped into the bathroom for a moment and when I got back I had discovered that he had sent an email to all of our teammates explaining that I hadn’t been totally honest with everyone on the team. It stated how they were my closest friends and I didn’t want to keep any secrets from them anymore. It took a lot of courage, but I wanted to tell my teammates the truth. I was gay. That was the reason that I had hooked up with Kelsey, as we were both questioning our sexuality and we thought we should see what it felt like to be with the opposite sex. He explained how I didn’t want anything to change between the team and I and I would appreciate all of the support I could get in this difficult decision.

Quite the little prank Darryl, quite the prank indeed. My roommate/teammate Alek happened to be in the room at the time as well. He desperately wanted me to go along with it. After my initial anger, I decided it might be funny. Within about 2 minutes, my teammate, Ndu (in-do), replied back to the email thread with a very inconsiderate, “haha very funny Pat. I know you’re not gay.” Then all hell broke loose. Alek responded with a, “Ndu, how could you be so rude. He’s obviously in a tough place right now and needs our support.” Darryl chimed in with a similar reply. Then, my teammates who weren’t even in on it, decided to bash Ndu for his lack of sensitivity. Eventually, Ndu realized that I was serious and expressed his apologies via email.

By the time Darryl and I made it down to the game, everyone was in the locker room talking about the recent news. I opened the door and chatter immediately stopped. Ndu came up to me, gave me a hug, and told me that I was still his boy, no matter what. I was looking around, and nobody was laughing. Alek and Darryl obviously had a little smirk on their face, but everyone else seemed pretty touched. When I got out to the court to help with warm ups, my other teammate, Adam, came up to me very anxiously. He was obviously trying to ask me if I was serious, but didn’t want to be rude. He ended up just being very awkward and left the encounter with more questions than before. At this point, I was kind of mad. Did people actually think that I was gay (not that there’s anything wrong with that)?

Word spread to the girl’s team that I had come out and things all started making sense to them.

“I totally understand why he slept with Kelsey now.”

“I can see him being gay. He kind of gives off that vibe.”

What the f**k?! I give off that vibe? Bullshit. Obviously, I had to put an end to this rumor before things got out of control. I broke the news to my teammates a few days later and we all had a good chuckle about it. However, Caitlin was still not convinced. She was skeptical and actually forgave me a little bit, if I actually was gay. When she realized that I wasn’t, I went back to being a dick.

Things between Caitlin and me eventually got fixed, as she was in my dorm for the next two years. We became very good friends and I actually just had breakfast with her this morning. As Billy says, “All’s well that ends well”, right?


































My Second Lesbian/First Coke-W***e

This next little philly was definitely the craziest girl I had encountered up to that point in my life. Accordingly, I met Brittany during my sophomore spring, a few weeks after my romp with Kelsey. And, as you can tell by the title of this chapter, I was on somewhat of a lesbian kick.

As you can imagine, this story begins at the Owl. A few times each semester, we would join up with a sorority and throw a party. Most of the time, it was with one of the Harvard sororities. However, as there were only 3 or 4 in existence, we sometimes had to branch-out to nearby schools. This was glorious in two ways; a.) a new batch of girls to meet and b.) a new batch of infinitely hotter girls to meet. On this particular evening, we were having a mixer with one of the sororities from Wellesley College. For those of you who don’t know about Wellesley, it is an all-girls school about 25 minutes west of the Harvard Campus. The ongoing joke with this school was that girls would board the “F**k Truck” (that’s actually what the girls actually called the bus between the campuses) and make the trek to Harvard to find their future husband. Imagine that. A truck that literally trucked in girls from a nearby college to f**k guys. Brilliant. Anyways, the girls got to the club and we began that night’s festivities.

In true Pat fashion, I was not usually one to approach girls at these parties, especially if it was a girl that I didn’t know from a different college. Therefore, I usually tried to hang out in a group of people, possibly already playing a game of some sort, and then establish rapport with one of the lucky ladies. I lucked out, as there was an opening at one of the dining room tables already engaged in a game of quarters. I took my seat next to a little blondie, who seemed to be sufficiently hammered at this point. She was flirting with our club’s VP, who was usually the one who set up these gatherings. He introduced me to Brittany and the games began.

First thing I noticed about Brittany; her voice. It sounded as if she had been smoking a pack a day for 20 years. Just terribly raspy, almost as if she was speaking through a tracheal tube. Next thing I noticed; her physique. Brittany was probably 5’4” and 95lbs, tops. Now, typically, these two characteristics would instantly turn me away. I generally like my girls cancer-free and with a body of some sort. However, this was not a “typical” time of my life and I was willing to give it a shot. Not long after we had started playing quarters did Brittany want to take a cigarette break. Seeing this as an opportunity to get alone with her, I obliged, but explained how I wasn’t going to smoke with her. We made our way out of the dining room and headed to the front door.

The club’s entry-way had a little foyer, so in order to get outside, you had to walk through two doors. We opened the first, but when we started walking to exit the building, we just caught eyes and stopped. So, we started making out. Then, we started getting a little friskier. Then our hands ended up down each other’s pants. As soon as mine went down hers, she apologized for not being as “well-kept” as usual, since she hadn’t been with anyone in awhile. Not like it was anything crazy out of control, but I appreciated the honesty. We continued for about a minute and then a few people opened up the front door to come into the house. They were welcomed with quite the show. The door slammed close and we laughed it off. However, we then realized that if we wanted this to continue we were gonna have to get to somewhere a little more private. I suggested heading up to the 3rd floor.

The 3rd floor of the owl was one large ballroom with a bathroom. Nothing else. We used it very rarely and if any member asked a girl if they wanted a “tour of the house”, it typically culminated in a 3rd floor rendezvous. Obviously, this is what I had intended. So we made our way up. On this particular night, the ballroom was completely locked. That left us with an empty hallway and a bathroom. Being the classy gentleman that I am, I wanted us to have some privacy, so I took her into the bathroom. Once there, clothes were removed. At that point, we engaged in sexual activity. The kind of activity that involves a man’s penis going into a women’s vagina. From what I can remember, nothing too crazy happened. Just your standard doggy-style intercourse.

After some time had passed, it was time to part ways. We exchanged numbers and she took the F**k Truck back to Wellesley. Over the next few days, we chatted online (spitting that middle school AIM game), and she decided that she wanted to make the trip back to Harvard the next weekend. We were having another party at the Owl that next weekend, so things were looking up. Now came the tricky part. I had also started hooking up with another girl, Kristen, who was also going to be at this party. Additionally, I had invited one of my friends from high school and all her friends who went to Tufts. Very poor planning on my part. I needed to try and make sure none of my girls ever crossed paths with each other; a daunting task when you realize our club was only two levels and very close quarters. However, I was up for the challenge.

My girls from Tufts came over my room before the party to pregame and I explained to them that I wasn’t going to be able to entertain them all evening, but they shouldn’t find it difficult to have a good time. When we got to the Owl, I told my friend from high school that if any of the guys in the club asked any of her friends if they wanted a tour, what they should expect. She laughed it off and then immediately afterwards, one of her friends came running over saying she was gonna go get a tour of the house real quick. Classic. Anyways, the night’s antics got started and Brittany arrived. I told my friend what was going on and she was cool with me sneaking away, as we weren’t trying to hook up or anything. I greeted Ms. Brittany, talked to her for a little bit and then excused myself to our backyard. When I got out there, Kristen was waiting for me. I wasn’t alarmed yet. It was still early, so I chatted with her for a little and then went back inside. This dance continued all night, except I started paying less and less attention to Kristen. Ultimately, this night would be the last time she and I had a meaningful conversation, as she realized that I was just f*****g her and didn’t want anything more. Sorry ‘bout it.

By the end of the night, I was on the dance floor with my friend from high school. Alek was convinced that she wanted to hook up with me and I should take her back, but I wasn’t ready for that. I had invited Brittany here and couldn’t let her just leave like that. I told this to her and she understood the situation. Super nice of her haha. So I left her side for the night and went to find Brittany. It was getting late, so I invited her back to my room. Since she drove here this time, she didn’t need to catch the F**k Truck back, so there was no rush for her departure. I told Alek she would be coming back for a while and that he would be sleeping on the couch for that particular evening, since we shared a tiny double. When we got back to my room, I grabbed Alek’s pillows and blanket and laid them out on the living room floor. Such a nice gesture.

Brittany and I made our way to the bedroom and engaged in some more of those acts I spoke of earlier. Once again, nothing too out of the ordinary. Pretty standard stuff. Afterwards, she decided that she would rather just drive back to Wellesley, instead of staying the night. That was fine by me, so I walked her out of my room. There, Alek was sleeping on the living room floor. He awoke when we walked through and Brittany apologized for making him sleep on the ground. Alek responded with one of the most idiotic replies you could have at that moment.

“Oh, don’t worry about it. This isn’t the first time I’ve had to sleep out here.”

Seriously, Al? Brittany half-laughed, and upon realizing his retardedness, Alek apologized. She said she didn’t care, but it was clearly awkward. I wasn’t too happy to be walking Brittany to her car, as it was snowing out, but I did find a $5 bill in the middle of the street on the way back, so that helped. At this point in our relationship, everything seemed to be going well. Obviously, I wasn’t looking to marry this girl, but we had a good thing going. We would talk online during the week, she would come over my place on the weekends, and the cycle would continue. She went on a little trip to China for a week, so when she got back, she decided that it was time for me to go to Wellesley. I thought that was fair, so I hopped on the reverse F**k Truck and made my way over.

We had quite the pleasant evening together. Went out to dinner, she brought me back to her dorm and showed me around a little. It was then that the craziness started coming out. A friend of hers from down the hall poked her head into her room to say hi. When she left, Brittany explained how that girl was the one with the best coke in the dorm. I was taken aback by this a little. At this point of my life, I didn’t have too much experience with hard drugs. Yeah, some friends of mine would smoke weed, but no one that I knew really did much more than that. Needless to say, this was a red flag for me. I brushed off the comment for the time being and rolled with it.

Then, Brittany decided to tell me a little bit about her last relationship. The last person she was dating happened to be sans penis. This actually didn’t freak me out as much as it probably should have, as I had been coming off my recent escapade with Kelsey. Still, I felt the need to prod. Brittany explained that she was seeing this girl at Wellesley for about a year, but she wasn’t technically a lesbian. Once again, I was confused. Doesn’t dating a girl for a year make you a lesbian by definition? She then went on to state that she was just a LUG and a lot of girls at Wellesley were, since it was an all-girls school. A LUG? Apparently this stood for a “Lesbian Until Graduation”. A lot of girls would just start f*****g their classmates as a convenience factor and then would find a guy after leaving. Okay, I guess I can see that making sense. Why travel to another college with guys when you can just suck it up for awhile and munch some box? Yeah, I totally get it. That’s what dudes at all-guys schools must do too.

I think she expected me to be a lot more freaked out by this news, but when she realized I was cool with it, we just let it go. Once again, we had a wild night of passion and I returned on the F**k Truck the next day. I slowly started realizing that Brittany was becoming a little more than a random hook-up for me. Not to say that I was upset by this, but it was definitely not what I was trying to get into. I had recently been freed from the shackles of monogamy (loose term there) and wasn’t trying to jump back into a relationship. When I added up all her qualities, it dawned on me that this was not a person I wanted to stay involved with for the long-term. So I started looking for ways to end things with her. Her sorority was having a party the next weekend and she invited me and a few friends, so I figured that was probably the best time. However, things did not go as planned.

We arrived at Wellesley and made our way to the TZE “Little Brick House”. As soon as we started walking down the path, we looked to our right and saw two girls rolling around in the grass making out with each other. Typical f*****g Wellesley. Since it was an all-girls school, they hired cops to be doormen for all of their parties, in case guys got out of control. It’s always a little sketchy/intimidating when you’re underage and have to convince a cop to let you into a house party. To avoid the line, Brittany told me to come around the back of the house and she would let us in the back door. As soon as I laid eyes on her, the night went sour. She was completely messed up. Like not a little hammered and acting stupid. More like completely fucked up on drugs and had no idea who I was when she saw me. She let us in and asked for our names when she greeted us. Not a good sign. Anyways, she brought us inside and then disappeared into a crowd of people. It looked like I was going to be on my own for the evening.

A little later on, I found her on the dance floor, so we started moving and grooving. The dancing soon pretty much turned into a fuckfest, as she threw her leg up on my shoulder and started humping me. She may not have known my name, but at least she still wanted to get it. That was good I guess. After an hour or so, it was time to call it a night. We went back to her place and along the way, she smoked about 4 cigarettes. We got to her room, started f*****g and then she just gave up. It looked like she was coming down off her high and was crashing hard. She told me that she was too tired to keep on going, but if I wanted to finish myself off and cum on her, I could. Um, did I hear that correctly? You want me to just jerk myself off and cum on you while you pass out?

Advice to any guy out there reading this: If you ever find yourself jerking off above a girl that you’ve been hooking up with, and then cum on her stomach while she’s asleep, chances are she’s not girlfriend material. You can use that as a loose guideline, as opposed to a strict rule, but either way, you’re probably going to want to reassess your life choices at that point.

So I finished, grabbed a towel, and cleaned up (I didn’t want to be rude, right?). Since it was late, and there were no more buses running, I decided to stay the night. We woke up in the morning and went to breakfast at the dining hall. That’s always a fun sight at an all-girls school. When you sit down to eat, you know exactly every single girl that got fucked the night before. Priceless. I actually lucked out, since there was a guy in the Owl who was visiting his girlfriend and he had driven. I said bye to Brittany, hopped into the car, and drove back to Harvard Square. An hour later, I went out to lunch with my parents for their anniversary. If they only knew what I had been through the night before…

And that was that. Brittany and I didn’t talk once after that fateful night. There wasn’t even any sort of official I-think-we-should-stop-hooking-up-with-each-other text. Just radio silence. I think we both realized that when our relationship got to the point of me jerking off onto her unconscious body, we should probably move on.











































Slip n’ Slide

Slip n’ Slides were always a fun time. They remind me of the hot summer days in Duxbury, MA and having zero regard for my body, as I catapulted myself down a thin piece of rubber. Looking back on it now, probably wasn’t the safest thing to be doing. Then again, neither was having sex with lesbians. Either way, the girl in this story gets her name from that magical entertainment.

As sophomore spring continued, so did the escapades. With no regard for human decency, I had gone off the deep end with my moral judgment. First lesbians, then coke w****s, who knows what lay ahead. What did lie ahead was a girl by the name of Catherine.

The first time remember meeting Catherine was at the Delphic toga party during the first semester. Alek and I were hanging out minding our own business, when she and her friend introduced themselves to us. We talked for maybe 30 seconds and that was it. I didn’t talk to her again until late in the spring at a party at the Owl. She said she had remembered meeting me and I definitely remembered her. She was about 5’10” and pushing 115 lbs at best. She had the look of one of those crazy fashion models, with hard facial features that guys usually don’t find attractive. However, in this case, I definitely found her attractive. We chatted for a while, exchanged numbers, and I called it a night.

Our first “date” came on 40 Day. Now 40 Day is a Harvard Basketball tradition that has been passed down from generation to generation. Essentially, during the spring, when the season is officially over and we no longer had to wake up early on the weekends, we would dedicate one Saturday morning to this wonderful tradition. The freshmen on the team would go to Dunkin’ Donuts and buy 3 dozen of the finest sweets in all the land, while the upperclassmen bought four 40’s of malt liquor for everyone on the team. Then at 10am, the drinking commenced. The goal is obviously to be the first to finish all 4 of your 40’s. For those of you who don’t usually drink 40’s, it ends up being around 15 beers or so, as the alcohol content is higher. But this isn’t like drinking 15 Bud Lights. This is sucking down some nasty s**t. Needless to say, not many people ever get to 4, as they start puking and give up, get too full, or just pass out before they can get there.

Anyways, back to the story. So Catherine and I decided to get together on the afternoon of 40 Day, after I was already feeling hungover from the morning festivities. I ended up going over her room for awhile and then one thing started leading to another. Before I knew it, clothes were off and we were ready to go. I think I should have rephrased sophomore spring as “no-condom spring”, because I think I forgot they existed. My theory was if a girl had something or wasn’t on the pill, then she would tell me to put on a condom. If she said nothing, then we were good to go. Safe rule to live by? Probably not, but it would do. Catherine didn’t say anything, so I just stuck it in. That’s when the Slip n’ Slide hit. I hadn’t even gone down on her or really fingered her, but as soon as I stuck it in her, it felt like my dick was cruising down that wonderful piece of yellow rubber that made up my childhood. It was just splishy and splashy like taking a bath, and it felt wonderful. It actually felt too wonderful. Because I was completely blind-sided by it, I got caught up in it and forgot that I should probably be pacing myself here to make a good first impression. However, that thinking went out the window and I just started cracking it out. I got so caught up in it, that I ending up coming in about 2 minutes. And I actually ending up coming inside of her (at her request). I apologized for the quick trigger, but tried to turn it into a complement by explaining that she was just too juicy. I think she took that in the right way, because it didn’t stop her from coming back for more over the next few weeks. However, that’s when things started to get a little weird.

One late night, she invited me over and I figured it would just be a typical booty call. When I got there she was acting a little strange. I looked past it and hopped into bed with her. As we were about to begin, she basically just passed out. There we were, lying naked in her bed about to start having sex, and she was unconscious. I was hoping nobody came in the room because it probably wouldn’t look too good on my end. I was tapping her, trying to wake her up and eventually she did. When she came to, she was disoriented and asking who I was and where she was. Very strange indeed. I told her what had happened and she said that she was on some anti-depressants, so she acted weird some times. Yeah, I would say passing out naked in your own bed with a guy and then having no idea who he was when you came to falls under the “acting weird some times” category. None of this really fazed her though, as we fucked anyways. Ha! Then, afterwards, she asked if I wanted to jump in the shower with her. It sounded kind of hot so I obliged. Even though the night ended up being pretty cool, a red flag definitely went off in my head.

We hung out a few more times before the school year ended. One time, we got frozen yogurt and sat down next to the Charles River. She was cuddled up on my arm and actually kissed my shoulder. It felt very girlfriendy, which I was not into at the moment, especially with the summer coming up. That was the last time we hung out before the summer. We left it at have a good summer and I’ll see you when we get back in the fall. What she didn’t know was I would be returning in the fall with a girlfriend of my own (see “The Inspiration for this Book”), so we would not in fact be talking again.

Once I got back to campus in the fall, we didn’t seek each other out. She knew I had a girlfriend, so I don’t think she wanted to see me. Sometime around early spring, I bumped into Catherine in an elevator and it was super awkward. We asked how each other had been and that was about it. No “It was good seeing you”, or “We should get together and catch up sometime”. We both realized that our little fling had subsided and it was time to move on.

She was a year older than me, so after she graduated, she didn’t even cross my mind. That was until I moved out to LA.


































Slip n’ Slide Part II

I’ll admit, the first part of the Slip n’ Slide story was not that crazy. A little bit of this, a little bit of that. But after I moved out to LA is when things really started to heat up.

I moved out to LA right after graduation to work for a company in Santa Monica. I didn’t know anyone when I first moved out, but my company had just hired 15 kids into a program, so a lot of us became good friends. Since I didn’t know anyone else, and I’m no good at meeting new people, I started hooking up with my coworker, Angel, about 5 months after moving. She was from SF and since I had a few friends up there, we decided to take a trip for the weekend. We drove up with my other coworker, Jay, to go see my old college roommates, Jeremy and Eric. Jeremy was living in Palo Alto and it happened to be Eric’s birthday that weekend, so Jeremy thought it would be nice to rent out a club downtown, get bottle service, the whole nine yards. Also, he invited a bunch of people from school who now lived in the city along with a bunch of his high school friends.

When we all got to the club, we walked downstairs and it was pretty pimp. There were pole dancers just hanging out in the middle of the floor doing their thing, we had bottles on bottles of drinks, pretty classy stuff. Anyways, so I’m walking around and all of a sudden, I see Catherine out of the corner of my eye. I couldn’t believe it. I knew she was originally from SF, but why the hell was she here? I would later find out that her roommate was friends with Eric in college, so Jeremy invited them. Obviously, I had to say something to her, so when we made eye contact, I walked over, gave her a hug, said what’s up, etc. We talked for a few minutes and then I went back over to Angel. Catherine saw this and when I left Angel’s side to get a drink, she walked over and introduced herself. I was stunned. All I could do was stand back with Jay and watch. They talked for about 10 minutes and when I asked Angel what she was saying, she just said she introduced herself as someone who used to hook up with me in college and wanted to see if she was my girlfriend. Angel didn’t really care, since she was pretty cool with things like that (I think I’ve told her almost every story in this book). So the night concluded, nothing else weird happened and that was that. Done with Catherine again, right? Why would I ever need to see/talk to her again? Wrong.

I ended things with Angel, for the moment, right around Christmas, and then again right around February (I was a pretty frustrating boyfriend). Since I was technically single, I was looking to introduce LA to Mr. Magnarelli. However, one person on the west coast had previously been introduced, and wanted to come back for more. Catherine sent me a Facebook message a few weeks after the encounter at the club saying it was really nice to see me and we should get together if I was going to be up in SF again. I didn’t think anything of it when she first sent it, since I was still with Angel, but now I felt like it might as well be capitalized on.

I had started traveling a lot for my job and I was actually going to be up at Stanford on a Monday to conduct some interviews. When I told Catherine that I was probably going to be up on Sunday night and we should get together, she said that her company was having a huge event at the SF City Hall on the Saturday night, and she needed a date. I told her that I wasn’t sure if I could come up the night before, since the company had already paid for a flight on Sunday, not Saturday. When I said that, she said she would actually buy my plane ticket to come up (apparently she really wanted a “date”). I ended up finagling with the person in charge of booking my flights to change it to Saturday, since I told her I didn’t need a hotel for the night. Boom, everything was put in motion. Now time for a fun evening…

After a 2 hour delay at the airport, and 7 beers later, I landed in SF. I hopped in a cab and made the $80 trip to Catherine’s apartment in the Marina of SF (the cab ride was on the company dime, which made me feel a little better). When I got to her place, I was running a little late, so we didn’t have much time to hang before the event. I gave her a kiss on the cheek when I first came in, and she was looking real good. We got ready and headed out to City Hall for an extravagant evening.

I’m still not quite sure what her company did for work, but they sure knew how to throw a f*****g party. They had rented out a few of the major ballrooms in the Hall, and lined each one with a different type of all you can eat buffet. There was a full sushi bar, pasta, steak, hors d’oeuvres, and of course, an open liquor bar. We danced and drank and ate the night away. Catherine paraded me around to all her coworkers, which made me feel pretty sweet, and even brought me over to introduce me to San Francisco 49ers great Roger Craig (don’t ask me why he was there, but he was). Around midnight, Catherine, her roommate Maria, Maria’s date, and I decided to call it a night and head back to their apartment. When we arrived, the girls were saying that they were going to get changed and then we could head out to a bar. I wanted nothing to do with this, as I was ready to be rewarded for being such an awesome showcase of a date.

I stepped into Catherine’s room as she was getting “changed” for the night and she just got completely naked. I wasn’t sure if she was planning on putting clothes back on, but I decided that was her way of telling me that she wasn’t going to be heading anywhere soon. So I decided to join her in matching garb and we got started. Things were going well, pretty standard banging, and then s**t got weird. She was obviously drunk, but she decided that it was a good time to tell me that she had had an abortion a little while ago. Really? You’re going to tell me that you had an abortion while I’m raw and balls-deep inside of you? I asked her if she was worried about anything and she told me that she was on the pill, so it was fine. Yeah, I don’t know if I trust that. I carried on and put that thought behind me. When I was about to come and she told me to go inside of her, I was glad she had told be about the schmaschmortion. Not a f*****g chance, Catherine. I pulled out and busted all over her tits instead. That’ll show her. She went and jumped in the shower to clean up and I decided to just lie in bed.

When she came back, she wanted to go again, so she started blowing me to warm me up. Okay, I could get used to this. As she came up for a breath, she looked at me and asked if she should go get Maria to help her out. Exsqueeze me? Baking powder?! Do I want you to go get your sexy little Asian roommate to have a threesome with me? Um, yes please. She said that her and Maria had talked about it once and were looking forward to trying it with someone. When I told her that I think she should, she replied with a, “Oh, am I not good enough for you?” What?! You’re the one who brought it up! After she realized she was being an idiot, she went into Maria’s room to grab her. For those 30 seconds that I was alone in her room, I was the happiest man in the world. I had spent all of my teenage years praying and hoping that at some point in my life, I would have a threesome. Was this really going to happen? I was already bracing myself for the greatest sexual experience in my history. She came back and said that Maria was passed out with her date in bed with her, so she felt bad. Now, her date was her gay friend, so obviously she didn’t feel bad about that, but apparently she didn’t want to wake her up. I pushed her a little, but didn’t want to force it, since she seemed like a loose cannon at this point. She went back to blowing me, and I was content. So close, yet so far away.

We started f*****g again, and I don’t know if this was her way of repaying me for not having a threesome, but she asked if I wanted to stick it in her a*s. Wow. Once again, I was stunned. I had never done anal, and I always envisioned that the first time I did, it would be with a girlfriend after many months of dating and a lot of convincing. Nope, I was wrong. It would be with Slip n’ Slide after many drinks and no convincing. I braced myself for impact and gave it a shot. She had no lube, so I wasn’t sure if it was going to be a smooth entry (I had always heard that, minus pornstars, girls needed a ton of lube if they wanted to try it). Nope, not Catherine. I think she was banking on the fact that my dick would be lubed naturally from taking a few trips down the Slip n’ Slide. She was right. It slid right in and we got started. It felt pretty normal for me. Obviously, I have no idea if it was the same for her, but she seemed to be enjoying it. I stayed with it for a while, and when I told her I was gonna come, she told me, once again, to go inside of her. This time, I felt more comfortable with it and let loose (maybe she just didn’t like the clean-up). What a great cap to the night.

We went out to breakfast in the morning and she was walking with a slight limp. Apparently, she regretted doing anal a little. She once again reverted to her girlfriendy ways, as she was trying to hold my hand and cuddle with me while we walked around her neighborhood. Not a chance, Catherine. You think I want a girlfriend that tells me to f**k her in the a*s after having not talked for months, and even years? I may be dumb, but I’m not dumb (or something like that). I headed back on the road the next day for recruiting and told her that I would let her know if I was coming back up to SF anytime soon. Once again, saying that was more of a formality, as I was not planning on seeing her again after that epic night. However, as is the theme with most stories in this book, I was wrong.

A few months later, Angel and I were still on one of our breaks, and my coworkers and I decided to take a trip up to SF for the famous Bay-to-Breakers road race. I had never heard of it, but apparently everyone just got super drunk, dressed up in crazy costumes, and walked through the streets of SF. Seemed right up my alley. We headed up after work on Friday to have a nice guy’s weekend. Obviously, I texted Catherine and let her know that I would be in the city. She wanted to get together. We didn’t get in until late Friday night, so I figured I would meet up with her on Saturday. I was correct in that assumption. My buddies and I spent all day Saturday drinking, so when I showed up at Catherine’s place around 7, I was pretty lit. She was happy to see me, but instead of just jumping right into it, she said she wanted to go over a friend’s house. I was cool with that. Why stay in and f**k all night when we can go out? A college guy friend of hers was going to come pick us up to bring us over there. When he called to say he was coming, Catherine told me that he had been trying to get with her for awhile, so she was happy that I was there, to show him that she wasn’t interested. I was cool with playing the back-off-this-is-my-piece-of-a*s role, so I was excited to see who the guy was. He called again when he was outside, and she asked if it was cool if he gave both of us a ride, since she failed to mention I was over before. Then she told him that he might actually remember me from school. She told me his name, and wouldn’t you f*****g know it, it was Brian, Potato-Sack Girl’s (See chapter “Potato Sack Girl”) boyfriend throughout college. I couldn’t have been more juiced. There was no better way for payback than f*****g the girl who he currently wants, and still getting blown by his old girlfriend. This was perfect. Brian seemed happy to see me when he picked me up, but I’m sure it was killing him inside. We hung out at Catherine’s friend’s house all night eating dinner and watching s****y TV. I was definitely ready to leave when she asked and we walked back to her apartment. I was preparing myself for another fantastic night, hoping she would rope Maria in with us this time. We got going and it wasn’t long before I asked if she wanted to do anal again. She said she had learned her lesson the first time and definitely didn’t want to do it with me again (a compliment I guess?). Okay, so that was off the list. Then, I realized that Maria was not home, so that took that off the list as well. Was I really going to have to have a normal night of sex with Catherine? Knowing her, she wasn’t going to let that happen. Just when I thought nothing weird was gonna happen, she got caught up in the moment and ended up dropping an “I love you”. Hey now! I played it off like I didn’t hear anything, because I definitely did not want to touch on that bag of worms. She didn’t repeat it again, so I’m hoping she caught herself. Things continued pretty normally and that was that. I woke up in the morning, headed back over to meet up with my friends and took part in the glory that is Bay-to-Breakers. Catherine and Maria did meet up with us for the walk and my buddy Mike actually took a liking to Maria. Catherine wasn’t acting too weird, so I would call it an all-around win for the weekend.

I went back up to SF one more time a few weeks later to go see the band Dispatch perform at the Greek Theater. Once again, I figured I would get a little a*s while I was up there, so I texted Catherine that I was coming again and she was all in. After the concert, my buddies went to a strip club and I snuck away to go meet up with her. I took a cab to her apartment and when I got inside, she was acting a little different. She didn’t have the same take-your-clothes-off-and-f**k-the-s**t-out-of-me look on her face. Instead, we got into her bedroom and she said that she was trying to change her ways. She didn’t want to hook up with guys anymore if she wasn’t dating them. Really? You’re just going to stop hooking up with people if you aren’t dating them? I know very little about girls, but one thing I do know is you can take the w***e out of a girl, but you can never take the dick out of a w***e (i.e. once a s**t, always a s**t, for those of you who can’t follow my intellectual quips). I called bullshit on her and tried to get things going, but she was pretty adamant on not hooking up. I couldn’t believe it. I abandoned my friends and took a cab cross-town without her even telling me that we weren’t going to hook up. Obviously, I wasn’t coming over at midnight to hang out and watch a movie. C’mon. Use your head! Unless she thought that I was going to tell her that I would indeed be her boyfriend, and we all know that wasn’t gonna happen. So, frustrated, I just decided to pass out in her bed and took a cab back to my buddy’s place in the morning.

So that was the end of my run with Slip n’ Slide. She texted me a few more times throughout the months saying she was in LA with Maria and they needed a place to stay. I took that as an if-you-let-us-stay-with-you-we’ll-have-a-threesome type of message. However, at that point, I was back together with Angel, so I couldn’t, in the right mind, allow that to happen. Really regret that decision. Will our paths ever cross again? I am definitely not ruling it out.











































The Inspiration for this Book

So, I know everybody has the one girl that sticks in the back of their mind. You know, the one that no matter how hard you try, you just can’t stop thinking back to. Well this is her. And let me tell you, the title of the chapter is not because of something good that happened to me. Oh no my friends. Quite the contrary. My story with this girl belonged in a movie (which I’m hoping this book will soon turn into after I get props from Oprah and her book club). When I told my friends about this story, they literally thought I made it up because a story like this was basically the plot of any summer-time-love movie. I suggest getting comfortable. Get in your warm Snuggie, grab a glass of scotch (or wine, or Smirnoff Ice) because you’re not going to want to put this book down for a while.

The story takes place during the summer after my sophomore year at Harvard. I just finished the savagery that was sophomore spring, when I slept with 6 girls. This might not seem like a crazy amount, but when you take into consideration the fact that I had only slept with one girl going into my sophomore year of college, and then wound up sleeping with another 6 from December to May, it seems like a lot to me. Anyways, my buddy from high school, Carter, and I decided that we were going to spend the summer on Lake Winnipesaukee in New Hampshire working at a sport’s camp called Camp Winaukee. Seemed like a pretty sweet gig. We would teach basketball for 7 weeks, live with some middle school students in cabins, go on field trips to water parks, and relax on the lake. I went into it with pretty low expectations, excitement-wise. It was going to be a nice way to unwind from the school year. However, as you can already imagine, that was not the case (cue the intense music).

When I first got up to camp at the end of June, Carter had already been up there for about a week, making sure everything was ready to go for the arrival of the campers. He, along with about 20 other counselors, did a lot of grounds work and got to know one another. Obviously the first thing I wanted to know about the counselors was were there any hot girls. Once again, I didn’t really have any expectations, as it was an all boys’ sports camp. He mentioned that there were two girls working in the front office that were kind of cute, but nothing special. Just then, another girl walked by. She caught my eye, a little, so I asked about her.

“Oh, that’s Nicole. She is off-limits. Her boyfriend, Jeremiah, is here working as a basketball instructor too.”

Carter should not have mentioned that. Didn’t he realize that whenever someone tells you that something is off-limits, that immediately piques your interest? It doesn’t matter how old you are, or what is off limits; it’s just a simple fact of life. That is exactly what happened here. Now don’t get me wrong, I wasn’t trying to break them up, or hook up with her or anything. However, now it was in the back of my head that I couldn’t have her, yet that didn’t seem to register with me. I wasn’t planning on approaching her, or trying to hit on her, but if she approached me, I probably wasn’t going to say no.

The counselors had the camp to themselves for about a week before the campers arrived. This was a nice way to settle in and get to know one another before we had to start being responsible. This period basically consisted of us doing team-building exercises during the day and getting drunk at night. I remember the exact moment when I realized that I might be getting into no good for the summer. Carter and I were hanging out in the lake shooting on the basketball hoop they installed on the dock. Nicole happened to be walking by in her bikini when an errant shot landed on the dock. I looked up at her and she looked absolutely amazing. Her body was perfect. Big tits, tight a*s, just beautiful. She said something to me, which I obviously didn’t hear and handed the ball back to me. I did also happen to notice an absolutely heinous tattoo on her foot that said “Live, Laugh, Love” in giant cursive that took up the entire top of her foot. Just awful. However, I was definitely not concentrating on her feet at this particular moment. She walked away and I started to get bad thoughts about her in my mind.

Things went on pretty normally for the next few days before campers arrived. Nicole and I started talking a little bit more; nothing crazy yet, but just chit-chat. She’d tell me a little bit more about Jeremiah. He played basketball in college as well and was a little taller than me. She ran track and played tennis in college (explains the tight body). She had just graduated and was living at home in Missouri. When I asked her how long she and Jeremiah had been dating, she told me they weren’t dating. Excuse me, Carter?! She said they used to date, but had broken up a little while back, after they had both accepted the job for the summer. They decided to keep the job and come to camp together, but weren’t planning on being together. Well this changed everything. Why was Carter under the impression that they were dating? Oh, it’s because Jeremiah was telling everyone they were to make sure no guys tried to get with her! I tip my hat to thee. However, I was still not completely convinced, as I would see them walking around the camp together sometimes. I actually walked in to the counselor shack to use the computer and she was sitting on his lap, so things seemed a little off. I took her words with a grain of salt and just went along with it.

A main defining point of the summer came when the counselors were split up into their assigned bunks. The camp was actually split into two parts: the Mainland and the Island. The Mainland was for the younger campers, up to age 12, and the Island was for campers 13-15. It was some sort of privilege to be a counselor on the Island, as there was a lot more freedom over there. Carter and I were assigned to the Mainland and Nicole and Jeremiah were assigned to the Island. At that point I realized I wasn’t going to be seeing much of Nicole, as the Island was literally an Island that you had to take a boat to. No campers or counselors ever went over to the Island. It was a different world.

A few days before the campers arrived, all the Island counselors were shipped over to the Island. I pretty much kissed my hopes of getting with Nicole goodbye on that day. I was certain that she and Jeremiah would patch things up and live a happy little summer on their island getaway. I only saw her a few times in the next few days, as she would come back to the mainland to see the girls working in the front office to take care of some administrative stuff. However, each time I saw her, she would have this certain smile on her face, like she was really excited to see me. She actually told me, later in our relationship, that there was a certain moment for her, much like I had earlier in the lake, as well. I was standing in the doorway at the front office and she was walking up to me. She said the sun was hitting my face at just the right light (or some sappy bullshit like that) and as she looked up at me, I looked so handsome. She told me she didn’t want to go back over to the Island at that point. She just wanted to stay on the Mainland for a while longer. Her wish would soon be granted.

Before that happened, it came to my attention that there was some other guy on the Island that was apparently getting the same sort of looks from Nicole. His name was Travis and he was also a basketball counselor. I did see them roaming around the campgrounds together from time to time, which intrigued me because she obviously wasn’t trying to hide anything from Jeremiah, but she was also putting out that vibe like she might be trying to get down this summer. Apparently one night, a few counselors, including Nicole and Travis went out to a bar, and they ended up making out. Now Jeremiah was Mormon, so he not only didn’t drink, but actually never went out to bars. Basically, Nicole was a free woman for the summer, as he would never be able to keep tabs on her. Once I heard about her and Travis, I realized that things might start heating up between us pretty soon. Looking back on what I just wrote, there should have been some sort of light bulb going off in my head when I heard about her and Travis. Like, yeah we might hook up, but she is probably not the most wholesome girl if she is making out with some guy she just met at a camp with her ex-boyfriend. Oh well. Too late now.

After about a week of dealing with whiny 12 year-olds, it was finally the weekend when the counselors could go out and have some fun. A bunch of us went to the closest bar, which was about a 15 minute drive from the camp. We shot some pool, sang some karaoke, drank some drinks and had a good time. As the night dragged on, people started dancing on the sad excuse this New Hampshire dive bar had for a dance floor. Nicole and one of the other girls started dancing and two random dudes walked up to them. Immediately, Nicole looked over to me and mouthed out “Help”. I intervened and she introduced me as her boyfriend to the guy so he would go away. Now Travis was an onlooker to this whole occurrence, so I’m sure that didn’t make him too happy. Nonetheless, we danced for a little bit and when her car was leaving to bring all of the Island counselors back to the boat, she told them that she was going to stay for a while longer. That perked me up real quick like. We ended up staying for about another 30 minutes and then hitched a ride in the back of a pick-up truck with another of the Mainland counselors. So there we were. Driving down the backroads of New Hampshire underneath the stars in the back of a pick-up truck; any hicks fantasy. I looked at her, she looked at me, and to quote Bob Seger, we were workin’ on our night moves. Our conversation hit that awkward moment when we both realized what the other was thinking, so we just went for it. She would later tell me, once again, that if I didn’t kiss her there in the back of that pick-up, she was going to be very disappointed. As we were making out, the guy riding shotgun poked his head through that little window thing pick-ups have and started laughing. We both noticed, but neither cared, we were getting our share (big ups Silver Bullet).

We made it back to camp and snuck away from the parking lot pretty quickly, so the other counselors wouldn’t notice. We went into the indoor basketball court, which was basically a big barn with two hoops and a concrete floor. All of the lights were on inside of it, so I walked over to the circuit breaker box thingy, and commenced the shut-down. I flicked a few of the switches, but all of the lights weren’t going off; I wanted it to be pitch-black. I finally decided to just switch them all off and that seemed to do the trick. We laid there at mid-court talking for awhile. It was nice. Soon, we started kissing again and I felt that it might go a little further. Just then, someone walked into the basketball court with a flashlight. He called out to see if anyone was in there and we tried to keep quiet. However, he flashed the light to mid-court and saw us there. It was the director of the camp and he came to inform me that I had just turned off the power for the entire camp. Whoops. He walked back over to the circuit box, turned the main power switch back on, and then immediately turned off the necessary lights to ensure that he didn’t see anything he didn’t want to. He said be more careful next time and have a good night. We were both completely shocked, as we thought we were fucked. He didn’t seem to care at all that we were in here doing God knows what. I think that rush of excitement is what propelled us to commence with making the beast with two backs.

We went at it for a while and when it was about that time, she told me that I could come inside of her, since she was on the pill. Well first she asked if I had been tested for anything, and when I said I have not been tested, she said whatever and told me to do it anyways. Once again, should have had that light bulb going off in my head at this point. I was pretty drunk at this point, and wasn’t too concerned with anyone’s well-being, so I obeyed her command. We abruptly got dressed and she headed out to catch the last boat to the Island. It was definitely a magical evening, to say the least. I snuck back into my cabin, making sure that I didn’t wake up any of my campers and thought about what just happened. I just came inside this girl I barely know, who hooked up with another counselor after coming to camp with her ex-boyfriend. Not one of my proudest moments, but a good piece of p***y nonetheless.

It wasn’t too long before the story of me shutting down the camp’s power made its way through the cabins. And by not long I mean the next morning at breakfast. Apparently the senior counselors had a meeting every morning where they would talk about the activities for the day, and the camp director happened to mention that he walked in on me and Nicole on the basketball courts the night before. Those counselors started telling people, campers caught wind of it, they told their older brothers on the Island, and literally everyone in the camp knew what had happened by night-fall. Definitely not the situation I wanted to be in with Nicole’s ex-boyfriend at the camp.

After that first night, Nicole and I began trying to hang out as often as possible. Although she was working on the Island, she would come back over every night once the campers went to sleep. We’d venture off across the campgrounds to sit and talk, and occasionally, felate each other. One night, she told me she wanted me to come over to the Island and hang out. This seemed like an absolutely terrible idea, as I would be trapped by all the campers who heard about us and, more importantly, by Jeremiah. For one reason or another, I told her yes and hopped on the boat over with her. We started walking around and then made it over to a camp fire, where there were a few other counselors. All of a sudden, Jeremiah came out of nowhere and got in Nicole’s face. He started screaming at her about sneaking off with me, blah, blah, blah, is this your new boyfriend? blah, blah, blah, I’m Mormon. I literally had to step between the two of them, to make sure he wasn’t going to hit her or something. Looking back, I’m surprised he didn’t try to hit me (foreshadowing anyone...?). Anyways, that was kind of the tipping point and the next morning, she told the director of the Island camp that she could not live there anymore and wanted to move over to the Mainland. After hearing what had happened the previous night, he agreed that she should move and by days end, she was set up over by me. Now the story starts to heat up ladies and gentlemen.

So now that Nicole and I were working in the same area and living a few cabins away from each other, we literally spent the entire day together. She would run off to the tennis courts and have the little boys ogle at her mamajammas while I molded kids into the next Bryant Reeves (Big Country!). Every hour or so, when the cabins switched sports and the counselors got a break, we would go sit somewhere together. After dinner every night, we would go off somewhere together. After lights out, we would sneak off to the tennis courts, baseball field, hockey courts, lake, etc, and f**k. It was actually a little insane. We would go off every night and f**k somewhere new. Unbelievable. I remember one night we went to the tennis courts and I ended up coming to fruition on the actual courts. The next day, when I brought my campers up there for their morning activities, I could see the stain on the court. Kinda gross, but also funny.

After a week or two, feelings started to grow. I was coming off a Spring semester where I just wanted to hook up with girls. I wanted to clear my mind from basketball, past relationships, my injury and just bone. Now, I felt something different with Nicole. We had only known each other for a few weeks, but since we were spending every day together, it felt like we had been together for months. As we got closer, she felt like it was an appropriate time to tell me the truth about her and Jeremiah. I told her I knew that they had been together for awhile and it was probably difficult coming to camp after breaking up, yadda yadda yadda, but then she dropped a bomb on me. She told me that he was actually her ex-husband. Ex-Husband!?! I was literally thrown back.

“Um, could you please clarify? How/Why were you two married in the first place?”

She told me that when Jeremiah went away to do his Mormon mission, he had told his superiors that he and Nicole had pre-marital relations. As we saw with Brandon Davies and the BYU basketball team this year, they do not look too highly on this. They could give a f**k-less what you do once you’re married, but before-hand, nothing flies. So they gave Jeremiah a choice: either break up with Nicole or get married. These two geniuses, who had only been dating for like 6 months, decided that marriage was the only answer. After Jeremiah got back from his mission, they held a ceremony and were a happily married couple. However, then reality set in, and she told me he started cheating on her. They got a divorce a few months before coming to camp, but were still trying to work stuff out.

So I’m sitting there listening to this and feel like I’ve gotten myself in waaay too deep. I’m f*****g a divorcee whose ex-husband lives within a 5 minute boat-ride, and on top of this, I’m starting to have some pretty strong feelings towards her. Not really what I was looking for in the summertime. But, for some reason, after hearing this story and how she had been cheated on, it drew me to her even more. Crazy, right? I don’t know why, but I wanted to be there for her even more. This was when I really started getting in too deep.

A few nights later, after doing some thinking about what the hell was going on, Nicole and I snuck off to the tennis shed (super classy). While we were f*****g, I was looking at her and got a funny feeling. Something about her eyes, or smile, or tits. I don’t know. Whatever it was, something just came over me and I said it. Yup, said those 3 words. No, not “I’m gonna come”, the other 3 words. She looked right back at me and laughed. I was very confused. I stopped pumping and looked at her with a stern expression. She asked what was wrong and I asked if she had heard me. She said no (apparently she was doing that thing where if you don’t understand someone or hear them correctly, you kinda just let out a nod and smile, and then when you get caught it’s super awkward because whatever that person said warrants a response, and then you get embarrassed because you have to admit that you have no idea what they said). So I told her again, and she said it back to me. A monumental moment in anyone’s relationship, especially this one, since now we realized that we were a lot more than summer f**k buddies.

Around the 4th week of camp, we decided to use some of our vacation days and travel down to my hometown of Duxbury, MA to meet the family. I felt like this would be a nice way for her to learn a little bit more about me, take the relationship a little further, and just get away from the little fuckers at camp. Of course I made the mistake of telling my brother about her past before getting home, so he had a chance to tell my parents about Nicole. Not a great first impression for a mother. Anyways, we met up with my parents in Boston for dinner, before heading home for the night. My mom was completely cold towards Nicole. It wasn’t even like she was trying to hide how she felt. I could feel the tension, Nicole could, the little Mexican baby sitting at the table next to us could. It was bad. We got home and I set Nicole up with an air mattress in our basement. My mom obviously didn’t want us sleeping in the same room, but to spite her attitude at dinner, I stayed in the basement the entire night. When I came upstairs in the morning, she was eating breakfast in the kitchen and shot me an evil eye. We got into it a little bit, going back and forth about how she wasn’t even giving Nicole a chance and I told her she was being a b***h. I went back downstairs and Nicole said she wanted to go back to camp, even though we still had two more days off. She said she could take a bus back up to NH and have a counselor pick her up from the bus stop. I told her she was being ridiculous and she wasn’t going anywhere.

We went upstairs and found a note from my mom. It said that she was sorry she wasn’t being as warm and welcoming to Nicole. She said that the only reason she was acting like that was because she hadn’t seen me all summer and the only time she got to, I brought Nicole home with me. She just missed me and wanted me to spend some time alone with the family. Yeah right. I call bullshit on that. I think she left out the part about some divorced succubus stealing her little boy away from mother. That’s beside the point though. We survived the next two days and were happy to be back at camp.

The next hiccup came a few days later, when it was my cabin’s turn to go on an over-night canoe trip to one of the islands close to the mainland. This was a time when our cabin was supposed to go bond with each other by sitting around a campfire, making S’mores, telling ghost stories, etc. It wasn’t half bad, except for the fact that one of my campers said he was feeling sick, so I had to paddle his a*s back to the infirmary and then paddle my a*s back to the island. P***y. When I got back, it was starting to get late and the campers were getting ready for bed. I was texting with Nicole, who was out at one of the local bars with some of the other counselors. About an hour later, when she got back to her cabin, she texted me saying that something happened that night. Apparently, she got a ride back to camp with 3 of the other tennis counselors. That shouldn’t be a big deal, as she was closest with them. However, these 3 tennis counselors were also little grease balls from Brazil. Straight up dirt. When they got out of the car, one of them kissed Nicole and she told me that she tried to pull away, but couldn’t. She wanted to tell me before rumors started going around that she was making out with some Brazilian. I didn’t really know how to take that. On the one hand, it sounds like something a Brazilian would do. On the other, she already made out with Travis when she first got to camp, but that was before me and her were anything. I’ll leave it up to you to decide what actually happened that night, since we never talked about it again.

A few days after this (keep in mind that this camp was only 7 weeks long, so everything kind of happens back-to-back), all of the counselors went out together. It was a Friday night and we made about a 30 minute drive to the Winaukee counselor’s favorite bar: The Plymouth House of Pizza. Yeah, it wasn’t much of a bar, but then again it’s New Hampshire, so what can you expect. We were all hanging out having a good time and Travis decided that he was going to come up to Nicole everytime I left her side for like 2 seconds. I go to the bar to get a drink, and he swoops in. I go hang a piss, and there he is. After the third time or so, he and Nicole started getting in each other’s faces about something. All of the counselors can see this happening and they are trying not to pay attention to it. I assumed she was telling him to leave her alone or something. Carter and I were watching this transpire and he knew that I was pissed, but obviously didn’t want me to do anything stupid. I turned to him and asked if he had my back. We walked over to Travis and I told him that obviously Nicole doesn’t want anything to do with him and he needed to leave her alone. He tried to come back at me with something like she started talking to me, but I wasn’t having it. I told him I didn’t want to see him ever bothering her again. I walked away with Nicole, kind of feeling like a boss. I never had to do something like that before. Not that I’m a p***y, but the situation had just never really come up. I told her that he is the only person in the entire camp I didn’t want to see her talking to. She could talk to Jeremiah, the Brazilians, whoever she wanted to, just don’t talk to Travis. Of course when you tell little kids they can’t do something, they want to even more.

A few nights later, we all went out again, this time to a closer bar and it was starting to get late. I told her that I was gonna grab a ride home with one of the other counselors and we had room for one more. I assumed she was going to hop in, but she said she wanted to stay a little longer. I looked around at who was left at the bar, and of course there’s Travis. I actually got her into the car and then she climbed out to go back into the bar. She’ wasfucking wasted at this point. I told her that I wasn’t going to be a very happy camper if she stayed at the bar. She shrugged it off and went back to the bar. F**k that. I’m pissed at this point, and when I got back to camp, I took a seat on a table outside of her cabin to wait for her, so I could give her a little talking to when she got home. About 45 minutes go by and then I heard a car pull into the parking lot. There are 3 voices, one I can’t decipher, one is Nicole’s, and the other is, of course, Travis’. She said bye to him and started walking over to me. She took a seat on the table and asked me what I was doing. I was acting cold towards her and she, miraculously, is picking it up. She told me that she didn’t understand why I was so mad and that she wasn’t doing anything wrong. Obviously she was confused. Then she said that she wasn’t feeling well and needed to go into the bathroom. She left me and I ended up sitting there for about 15 minutes before I realized something wasn’t right. I went into her cabin, which is all of the female counselors and they were helping her in the bathroom. She was bent over the toilet throwing up, and is being very unresponsive. One of the other girls asked me what happened and I told her that I wasn’t with her, Travis was. As I’m helping Nicole in the bathroom, one of the girls called Travis to find out how much she had to drink. By this point, her body has gone completely limp and there is no way she is walking to the infirmary. Travis ended up coming over and we had to carry her all the way across camp. Just picture that for me. The guy I absolutely despise and who wants to f**k my girlfriend is helping me carry her because she’s too drunk to move. We actually had to work together and look at each other’s faces as we carry her. It took about 10 minutes and we don’t say a word to each other the entire time. Painfully awkward. We got her to the infirmary and I spent the night sleeping next to her. The next morning, we woke up and the camp director gets word of what happened to her. Nicole got a stern talking to about drinking and was banned from leaving the camp’s premises for a week. At least she can’t pull any more shenanigans for a while.

For those of you keeping score at home, you’re probably wondering why I am putting with Nicole at this point. She made out with Travis the first week of camp, is divorced, kissed some Brazilian, and completely disregarded my requests not to talk to Travis. That’s 4 strikes. Not even Strasburg can muster up that s**t. I’ll tell you what, I’m not sure what kept on pulling me back in. I don’t know if it was the sex, or the fact that I hadn’t had a meaningful relationship with someone in awhile, but I couldn’t let her go. There was just something about her. When we snuck off at night and stared up at the stars holding each other, it was just perfect. Some corny s**t, I know, but it was true. I’m sure everybody has been in some sort of similar relationship like that. Well, maybe not exactly the same, but you know what I mean. The next two excerpts in this fairy tale kind of solidify this story into a teen-drama movie.

The entire summer, the basketball counselors on the Island were trying to set up a game with the counselors on the Mainland. Apparently, it was some camp tradition, in which the Mainland counselors and campers would go over to the Island one night and have a fun-loving game. The only problem was the summer of 2008 was one of the rainiest summers in recent history. It rained 30 of the 50 days we were at camp, so it was tough to find a dry court on the Island. We kept on pushing the date of the game back until finally, the Island counselors couldn’t take it anymore. Without any warning, at around 8:30 one night, one of the Island counselors called the Mainland and said their team, along with 60 campers, were coming to the Mainland to play the game. Word spread through the Mainland counselors what was about to go down and I for one was not too thrilled about it. Not because I didn’t want to play, but because I knew what was going to happen. I tried to explain that there was no way this game was going to be clean. You’ve got both of the guys who hate me on the same team. Obviously they’re planning something. Also remember that I was just coming back from a knee injury and I didn’t really want to explain to my coach in September that I got re-injured playing in a counselor basketball game at camp. Obviously, however, I was not going to be the downer and refuse to play the game, so at 9, the Mainland team walked over to the dome to get ready.

Because it was past our campers’ bedtime, the gym was only filled with Island campers, chanting “Pat Sucks” as the teams were warming up. I couldn’t believe it. All of the camp directors were standing around the court just listening and watching. It was almost as if they wanted to see something bad happen. Both Jeremiah and Travis were stone-faced warming up. They looked like they were on a mission, and not the Mormon kind. As the teams met at center court for the opening jump, I remember feeling the most nervous for a basketball game I had ever felt in my life. Even looking back now at the big games that I’ve played in, whether it was my state championship game in high school, my first game starting in college against the Lopez twins at Stanford, or playing Michigan in front of a sold out crowd at Harvard, I have never been as nervous for a game as I was for the counselor game at Camp Winaukee. Crazy, right?

The game got started and, as expected, there were 5 fouls called in the first 5 minutes. One of the directors was reffing and had absolutely no control over anything. There were definitely no easy buckets and people were winding up on the cement court on every possession. Jeremiah and I were guarding each other and it was getting pretty physical. By halftime, the score was in the low 20’s. Nicole, who was working the late shift making sure all of the Mainland campers were in bed, showed up at and had no idea what she was getting herself into. We came out in the second half expecting things to be very similar to the first. Then, it all changed. About 3 minutes into the half, I was posting up Jeremiah down low and he was giving me the old knee-to-the-a*s-to-get-me-off-the -block move. He also had both of his hands on my back shoving me. As the pass came in to me, the ref finally called a foul as I fell forward. Because Jeremiah was pushing me, he fell forward with me as well and his head ended up near my hip. Fed up with the way things were going, I saw my window. With the ball in one hand and Jeremiah in a headlock, I flipped him over my hip onto the ground. WWF style. Then, I threw ball and hit him right in the nose. As soon as he landed on the ground, all 60 of the campers rushed the court and started attacking me. Jeremiah swung at my nuts from the ground and luckily missed. However, I was being engulfed by 14 year olds who wanted blood. It was absolute mayhem. Nobody had any control over anything. The directors were trying to settle everyone down, but couldn’t. I was dragged out of the crowd by one of my teammates and taken outside. I walked around the camp for about 10 minutes by myself trying to cool off. I could hear the campers chanting “Jeremiah!” inside the dome. I decided to head back inside and see what damage had been done. As soon as I walked in, Nicole and another counselor grabbed me and brought me back outside. They wanted to make sure everyone was cleared out of the gym before I tried anything. The game was called and the Islanders went back to their cabins.

As I went to bed that night, I remember thinking that I was probably going to get fired and asked to leave the camp immediately for my actions. The funny thing was, I didn’t even get a talking to. During the counselor’s morning meeting, the Camp Director alluded to what happened by reminding everyone that even though the Mainland and Island are separate camps, all of the counselors are equal and should be friends. That was the last anyone said about it. I think the directors realized that they were a catalyst behind what had happened by allowing the game to be played and especially allowing all of the Island campers to come over and watch it. I didn’t have any other run-ins with Jeremiah for the final weeks of camp, as he stayed off the Mainland. This was probably a good thing, since I don’t know what those crazy Mormons are capable of when it comes to revenge.

The final fireworks of the summer took place about 2 weeks after the basketball brawl. One-by-one the counselors started to leave camp. Friday night happened to be Travis’ birthday and he was flying home to Nebraska in the morning. Therefore, he and all the Island counselors decided to go out to the local pub one final time. Of course, the mainland counselors that didn’t mind Travis, wanted to go as well. This included Carter, my other counselor friends, and of course, Nicole. I bit the bullet and headed out with everybody for the night.

About an hour in, Carter and I decided to rock out to some karaoke. I left Nicole at the bar by herself and got up on stage. As we were killing a rendition of “We Didn’t Start the Fire”, I noticed that Travis had swooped in on Nicole. I didn’t let this affect my performance, as nothing was going to get in between Mr. Joel and me. However, as soon as the song ended, I walked off stage and looked over at Nicole. She was still talking to Travis and didn‘t notice me at all. Carter knew that I was furious, so he decided to bring me outside to cool off. I was pretty hammered at this point and started pacing around sporadically outside of the bar. I told Carter that if I got back in the bar and Travis was still talking to Nicole, I was gonna punch him out. He obviously didn’t think I was serious, as I had never punched anyone in the face before in my life. Once again, not a p***y; the situation just never really presented itself. After about 5-10 minutes outside, I asked Carter if he was ready to go back in. He obliged and we walked back inside. I walked up to the bar and could see that Travis was still engaged in conversation with my dame. I started walking up behind him and everything seemed like it was in slow motion. I had complete tunnel vision as I walked up. Like any good predator, I approached from the back, so he couldn’t see me coming. As I grabbed the back of his shirt to spin him around, I nudged Nicole out of the way. With his shirt in my left hand, and his head beginning to spin around towards me, I cocked my right fist back. Then, I landed a haymaker right to his stupid f*****g face. Just dead on target. Suddenly, everything sped up as his body landed on the bar. I was swarmed in a mass of shouting people. I felt someone grabbing me to bring me away from everyone and I eventually ended up outside. Soon, everybody was out there. The sides were split down the middle of people who had Travis’ back and people who had mine. Nobody was really doing anything; they were just talking loudly at each other. Obviously nobody else was going to fight, as they were all friends with each other. Nicole was still inside, so I went back to grab her. When we got back outside, we funneled into one of the counselor’s cars and sped off. Right as we were turning out of the parking lot, looking back at the people still standing around, two cop cars pulled in. I had gotten away just in time.

Nicole was obviously not too pleased with me, as I tried to tell her that I had warned her about not talking to Travis and she hadn’t listened. As she was yelling at me, I looked down at my hand, which was bleeding. I must have gotten a pretty good shot on Travis, as my knuckle was cut. I’ve still got a scar on it now. We got back to camp and I immediately started walking back to my cabin. At this point of the summer, most of my campers had left and the few that remained had already been moved into another cabin. I was still sleeping in my original cabin, as I hadn’t gotten around to moving my stuff yet. She followed me back to the empty cabin and we sat and talked for a while. I told her how I felt about everything and I was tired of the shenanigans. She continued to yell at me about how irresponsible I was being and how stupid I was for punching that a*s-clown. We went back and forth for around an hour and then ended up just falling asleep together. Nothing really got accomplished. When I woke up in the morning, I was once again expecting to get fired. I feel like punching another counselor is looked down upon at summer camps. However, much to my chagrin, this camp ran on its own terms. The Camp Director did pull me aside at breakfast to give me his two cents. He said that he realized I was caught up in a weird summer love situation, and sometimes girls aren’t that worth it. He said I could have been arrested last night and my life would have been ruined. Then, he said that he was going to give me Travis’ phone number so I could call him and apologize when he got home. Yeah, like that was gonna happen. After my lecturing, one of the counselors came up to me and asked if I had seen Travis yet. Apparently his face was super fucked up. That made me feel a little better. I actually searched him on Facebook about a week later and noticed that his status alluded to his black eye, and said that “Some people are just jealous I guess”. I assumed that meant me, but I had no idea what I would be jealous about. I just didn’t like him. I was the one f*****g Nicole, so there was nothing to really be jealous about. But I digress.

So with Jeremiah and Travis gone for the summer, Nicole and I were finally allowed to roam about the camp without having to look over our shoulders. With camp ending, we started talking about what was going to happen once she went back to Missouri and I went back to school. We obviously cared for each other, so we decided to stick it out and turn the summer love into a year round relationship. Before camp officially ended, the Camp Director asked us if we would like to stay for another week and a half, as a group of special needs campers were going to be renting out the camp and they needed a few extra counselors to stick around and help out with things. We jumped at the opportunity, as it gave us some extra time together and also because we got to move out of the campers’ cabins and into our own private cabin. That was a major plus, as we would no longer have to sneak around the camp at night to f**k; we could f**k in the comfort of some random cabin in the woods of New Hampshire. So everything looked like smooth sailing. We would hang out with some kids for a few hours a day, come back to the cabin to bang, go out to eat, and then come back to the cabin to bang again. It was quite the little set up we had. However, my little paradise hit a road bump one day when we started talking about past loves. Nicole had told me earlier in the summer that I was only the 3rd guy she had slept with: her high school boyfriend and Jeremiah being the other two. This sort of made sense to me, as she was married to Jeremiah for a while in college. For some reason the question of how many girls I had slept with came up, because she was assuming that it was a ton. I had explained to her earlier that I had only slept with one girl (my high school girlfriend) through freshman year of college. However, I forgot that little fact and when I told her my number was 7, she realized that I had slept with 6 girls my sophomore year, just before coming to camp. For some girls, that’s a lot. For others, not a big deal. For Nicole, it was a big deal. She became super pissed and disgusted with me and ran off somewhere in the camp. She literally wouldn’t talk to me for like 2 days. I somehow convinced her that I wasn’t as gross as she thought I was and we patched things up.

As the summer came to a close, reality started to set in. Would we actually be able to make this work with me at school and her in Missouri? I felt strong enough for her that I knew I could do it. She was still a little hesitant, since she thought as soon as I got back to campus I would start f*****g random girls again. I knew that I would be able to stay faithful, though, as I had never felt this way about a girl before. When I dropped her off at the airport at the end of August, we had a tearful goodbye. I didn’t know it then, but that would be the last time I ever saw her.

My junior year of college started just as any other. I moved into a sweet new room and the first few weeks consisted of captain’s practices and partying. My knee was pretty much back to 100% and I was ready to have a successful year. When I told my roommates about my new girlfriend (I hadn’t talked to them too much over the summer since there wasn’t much time to go online or talk on the phone), they were rightfully shocked. When I had left them in the spring, I was in the middle of the debauchery that was sophomore year. Now, I had come back after 3 months, and I was in love? Didn’t make sense to them. Obviously, when I told them about her and the things that happened while at camp, they were even more stunned. Alek didn’t like Nicole right off the bat, seeing as she was a divorcee. Alek was a simple Nebraskan who thought his women should only be married once. So adorable. Additionally, they thought there was going to be no way I would be able to stay faithful. They saw what I was doing back in the spring and thought that I couldn’t change. However, I didn’t let their negativity bring me down.

About a week into school, Nicole and I had been talking a few times a day and everything seemed fine. We even started having phone/Skype sex. And this was not the type of phone sex I was having with 8th Grade Girl. This was straight up raunchy stuff. Of course, with Skype, you can imagine what was going on there. That definitely kept me sane and kept me from thinking about other girls, as I’m sure other people who have been in long-distance relationships can attest to. I would say things were going pretty smoothly a few weeks into our little experiment. I even began looking for summer internships in St. Louis. Utilizing the extensive Harvard and basketball network I had access to, I was able to talk with an alum who worked for the St. Louis Blues and he was very interested in helping me out. Nicole had also bought a plane ticket to come visit for Thanksgiving. Yup, things were going about as well as I had hoped. However, as most assumptions in this story, things were about to change.

Like all couples, we had our arguments. Ours weren’t about the things you would expect though. Instead of being about going out at night and talking to other girls, we seemed to bicker about stupid s**t. One night, we got into an argument for about an hour and a half about religion and how she believed in both evolution and divine creation. I had always thought people needed to believe in one or the other (we evolved from animals or God created Man), but she believed that God created Man at the same time He created animals and then animals evolved into other animals, but not in to humans. Didn’t quite make sense to me. We also fought about political views, and anyone who knows me knows that I don’t talk politics, and when I do, I usually play the role of Devil’s Advocate. Others have called me a Communist. But that’s for another book. Anyway, we would get in these fights, not talk for a day or so, and then make up and everything would be fine. I guess it was healthy, right? On the opposite end of the relationship spectrum, she once told me that she had started thinking about the way her name would sound if we got married. She told me she never really liked the way her name sounded if she took Jeremiah’s last name, but she really liked the way Nicole Magnarelli flowed off the tongue. Instead of being completely freaked out by this, I actually embraced it. I really loved this girl and if that’s what she was thinking about at this point in our relationship, I was all for it. Even though we had only been dating for a few months, it felt like so much longer, since we spent every single day of the summer together and actually lived together for 2 weeks. Not saying that I was thinking of proposing to her, but the idea of staying together through the school year and working in STL for the summer seemed like a real possibility. On top of that, she said she wanted to move out to Boston, since she loved the city when she came down during the summer. We were planning on checking out some places when she came to visit for Thanksgiving and then she would think about moving out the following fall for my senior year. From that point on, however, things went into a downward spiral.

Nicole usually went to STL for the weekends, as she had a good girlfriend who lived there, and there wasn’t much going on in her hometown. Things were fine the first few weekends, as she would give me a call around midnight and we would chat just to make sure things were cool. One Saturday night, I got a call around 3 am, after I had fallen asleep. It was from her phone, but she was not on the other line. It was her friend and she said that something had happened to Nicole. I suddenly got a terrible feeling in my stomach. I expected the worst. Not to say luckily, but apparently Nicole had gotten roofied at some club and her friend grabbed her before anything bad happened. She put Nicole on the phone, so I could make sure she was alright. Obviously, she wasn’t feeling very well, but other than that, everything was fine. When I talked to her the next morning, she tried to retell the story, but it was a little fuzzy. She felt terrible and assured me that nothing had happened. She even told me that to ensure that she wouldn’t cheat on me, she stopped (cough, cough) landscaping, as she would never hook up with a guy if her lady bits weren’t tended to. That’s my girl!

The next weekend, she told me she was going back up to the city to go out again. I told her I didn’t think it was a good idea, seeing as she got roofied the prior weekend. She didn’t listen to me though and said that everything would be fine. When I talked to her on Sunday morning, she told me how her Saturday night took her from a club in STL, to some guys house just outside the city. She said her friend dragged her along with 2 guys to go get some food at 2 a.m. and eventually ended up back at his house. I was a dumbfounded at this. Not by the fact that she went to some random guy’s house, but by the fact that she was telling me about it. I wasn’t even pressing her about the issue. She just flat out told me. When I confronted her about that fact, she acted like there was nothing weird or wrong with what she was telling me. Obviously, I wasn’t very pleased with her, and when I tried to voice my anger, she just blew me off. After our little tiff, we patched things up and I thought things were normal again. Plus, she was coming to visit in a few weeks, so I was certain things could go back to the way they were when we saw each other again. But she would never make it out.

About 2 weeks before Nicole was set to take flight, she gave me a call. The conversation started like any other, but soon she started talking about how she didn’t think it was going to last and she didn’t trust me at school. She couldn’t deal with only seeing me a few times a year and didn’t think it was going to work out. I was stunned. Why would she be saying this only a few days before she was coming to visit? I tried to convince her otherwise, but her mind was obviously made up before she called. I was devastated. As my roommates remember, I was distraught, disheartened, and downtrodden (forcing the alliteration there, I know). She told me she was still thinking about coming out to see me and she would let me know in a few days. That’s when things went sour.

The next day, I got a call from Carter. He had seen the news from Facebook, as Nicole had blocked me, thus ending our magical relationship. As soon as I saw his number on my phone, I knew what it was going to be about. Before he could even start talking, I told him that I didn’t know what happened. She had just sprung it on me and she was actually supposed to be visiting the next week. When I finished talking, he said okay, but asked me who the new guy was. New guy!?

“What new guy?”

“Well Nicole didn’t block me and she is in a new relationship with some other guy right now.”

What the f**k was going on here?

I asked Carter for his Facebook log-in, so I could do some investigative work. He wasn’t lying. She was in a relationship with some guy. I couldn’t really find anything else, as it had only been a day, but seeing that was enough to set me off. I immediately called Nicole, not expecting her to answer, but she did. I told her I had talked to Carter and wanted to know what the f**k was going on. Obviously if she was already in a relationship with this kid, then she had been seeing him for a while. I told her I wanted to know what was happening and she said that he lived in St. Louis and she had met him at a bar a few weeks back. Each weekend, when she told me she was going to the city to stay with her friend, she was actually staying with him. Unbelievable. I was obviously not pleased by this and when I started to attack her, she tried to turn it back on me, saying I was probably messing around with girls and it was dumb of me to think that a long-distance relationship could last. When I asked her if she was going to tell me about him before she came to visit, she said no and was going to pretend like nothing was different. I wasn’t going to stand for this a let her know that she was a dirty s**t. Ha! I totally got her. She said whatever and hung up. So now what to do?

For the next few days, we would occasionally send each other a nasty text, displaying our disgust for the situation. No progress was really made on whether or not she was coming to visit, however. Obviously, I would prefer her not to visit, but a part of me still wanted to see her, for closure. While my personal life was in shambles, it started to reflect my performance on the court as well. We had a scrimmage the Saturday before our first game and I played like dog s**t. I was pretty disinterested in playing and my assistant coach asked me if everything was good with my girlfriend, as he obviously knew something was up. I explained what had happened and he told me not to let it get to me. Unfortunately, I did and I broke down in front of him. He told me to pull myself together as the season started the next week, and since the other forward on our team had a foot injury, I would be starting.

On Monday, we were finishing up our last full day of practice before the first game of the season. It was going well up until the last 15 minutes or so. We were scrimmaging five-on-five and I ran down low to get a rebound. I jumped, and when I landed, I pretty much landed with my foot on its side. However, since I had my ankle taped, it didn’t roll over, and instead, my knee popped out. Again. I instantly knew the feeling. It had happened again. As I fell to the ground in pain, my teammates knew it as well.

I would end up missing the entire season, as I tried to wait the injury out to see if it would get better. When January rolled around, and I still couldn’t run, I opted to get surgery.

Now, back to the matter at hand. My life was crumbling before me. I told Nicole what had happened, but she didn’t care too much. Instead, she decided to let the truth come out about her past. A truth which changed a few things about the way I viewed her. First off, she told me that when Jeremiah had gone away on his Mormon mission, she started f*****g one of his teammates. That sort of changed the landscape on the whole Jeremiah-cheated-on-me-and-that’s-why-we-got-divorced thing. Ya, he might have cheated, but she might have had it coming. Secondly, she said that she had slept with more than 10 guys. The girl who told me she had only been with 3 guys and freaked out on me when I said I had slept with 7 girls was now telling me she was in double digits. She was just being absolutely relentless with me. Crushing the few pure thoughts I had about her. Then again, what should I have expected from a girl that wanted me to come inside her 2 weeks after first meeting her?

After Christmas break, we never really spoke. There were a few texts here and there. And she actually decided to un-block me on Facebook, so there might have been a few drunken messages sent, but other than that, no real conversations. And now, in December of 2011, as I finally put this story to paper and think she is gone from my life, she sends me a Facebook message about a week ago. She just wanted to check in and see how things were going. I thought I had put this behind me and by writing this book I would finally get some closure. Instead, she decides to open it back up again. According to her Facebook profile, she has been dating some fuckhead named Andy and just bought a house in STL. However, she just sent me another message saying she broke up with him last week and now she’s asking if I’m single. What the f**k is going on? I’m out in California, so I’m assuming I won’t ever have to deal with her again, but who knows with this girl.

So, the question I ask myself is, “Self. Did you learn any lessons from this stage in your life?” I’d like to think I taught myself to not get into long-distance relationships, f**k girls who allow me to f**k the first time we hook up, not get involved with crazy b*****s, or even f**k coworkers. As you can tell from the rest of this book, I never learned any of these lessons.





































My Third Lesbian

Yup, that title is correct. You might be thinking to yourself. “Self, Pat couldn’t have gotten mixed up with another lezzie, could he?” Well that’s exactly what I did sir/madam. Her name was Stephanie.

In the spring of my junior year, I worked at the psychology lab on campus, where I helped grad students run experiments on Harvard undergrads. I only worked about 6 hours a week, got an automatic A for the class, and the participants got paid. All in all, it was a pretty sweet situation. Anyways, that’s where I met Stephanie. She was a grad student at Northeastern (I think that was the case. I know she went to Northeastern and she was older, so I’m pretty sure she was a grad student. That’s not important though), and she was working in our lab to get some credit for classes. She had dark hair, a great body, and I’m trying to think of a good way to describe her face. I know it was sort of animal-like. I don’t want to say horsey, but maybe a little mousey. Yeah, that’s it. She kind of had a mousey face. We happened to always be on shifts together, so we got to know each other pretty well. She seemed like a cool enough gal. Definitely a potential hook-up.

A few weeks after we had started working together, we were chatting in lab one day and we started talking about past relationships. Now, my relationship with Nicole was only over a few months before, so it was still a pretty fresh wound. I had hooked up with Kasia (See “The Best I Ever Had”), which got my mind off things a little, but still not completely. I told Stephanie about what had happened and obviously she felt really bad for me. I’m not sure if that turns girls on or not. Like, if a girl hears about a guy who gets his heart broken, does that make girl instantly attracted to him? Ladies, you can discuss that at your book club meeting after finishing this chapter. So after I had told her my little story, I asked her what her relationship status was. She said she was single, but she had recently gotten out of a very long-term relationship. When she said this, she got a little shy. I asked a little bit more about what had happened, and that’s when she told me that she and her girlfriend just fell out of love. My ears perked up.

“Oh, you were dating a girl for 5 years?”

So Stephanie was no LUG. She wasn’t like an oh-my-god-she’s-cute-let’s-make-out-at-a-party type of lesbian. She was a full on lesbian. At this point, any normal human being would probably say, “Okay, this girl is clearly not going to hook up with me. I should probably stop trying.” However, as you have read, I usually don’t think rationally when it comes to girls. So, I figured this was going to be a tough nut to crack. We got along pretty well and were flirty with each other, so maybe she wanted to hop back on the horse for a ride. Maybe she had just forgotten what it was like and needed a refresher course. I’m a good teacher.

About another week passed before I suggested that we hang out. Nothing too serious. I just invited her to come over my place after lab and we could hang out, watch a movie, chat, f**k, whatever she wanted to do. She accepted and I figured this would be my chance to make my move and recover this girl from the dark side. We got back to my place and I put on Dumb & Dumber. Classic movie. Everyone loves it. Perfect hook-up movie, because you probably get through the first 20 minutes or so, and then since everyone has seen it 100 times, you get bored and start hooking up. So that was my plan going in. I grabbed a blanket from my room and we plopped down on the couch in the living room.

On cue, about 20 minutes into the movie, I tried to make my first move. I waited for a funny line, then looked over at her as we were laughing, and leaned on in. As soon as I started throwing my face towards her, she realized what was going on, pulled away, and said,

“Woah. You’re gonna have to try harder than that. You have to earn it.”

Wow. Full on rejection. I didn’t even know what to do. It was just super awkward. I honestly thought she was kidding, so I shrugged it off and leaned in again. I got the same response. This was a little ridiculous. The only good thing was she said I had to earn it, so it wasn’t like she didn’t want to kiss me because I was a guy, she just didn’t feel like I deserved it yet. So I had that going for me, which was nice. Two rejections were enough for me at the moment, so we just went back to watching the movie. We sat there for the next hour or so and you could taste the awkward tension in the room. I really didn’t know where this was going. Was she just going to leave after the movie was over? Luckily, a few of my roommates happened to get home when the movie finished to break up all the wonderful vibes that were going on in the living room. There were brief introductions and then they all left. At this moment, I could have done one of two things: a.) realized this wasn’t going to happen (or wasn’t worth it) and ended it there, or b.) tried harder to earn the honor of kissing her. I chose the latter.

So we chatted a little bit. I tried to put on my charming face, and after a few minutes, I figured that was enough to earn the kiss. So, for the third time, I went in for a kiss. This time, I connected. We made out for a little, and then she brought up the fact that my roommates were around, so we should probably go into my room. Works for me. So we went into my bedroom and the kissing commenced. There was definitely some heavy petting along with a little over the pants rubbing action. She was wearing yoga pants and her a*s was phenomenal, so I was pretty happy with myself. Things were going pretty well, so I figured I’d try to push it a little further. When I tried to go down her pants, she grabbed my hand and said she didn’t want to do anything too much since it was our first time hanging out. Good. Me neither. I was just testing. So we continued with our middle school make out session. Then, she stood up, pulled me up to a sitting position, and started giving me a lap dance. She knew how to work her body, so it was very pleasant to say the least. I kept on trying to grab some t*****s and a*s, but she insisted that she just wanted to use this time as a warm up session and that next time we could have sex. She actually said that.

“Not right now, but let’s hang out again and we’ll have sex.”

I don’t have much self-control, but since I had the promise of having sex the next time, I figured I could get through this teaser. It was pretty brutal though. Like you know how guys always say, “I don’t understand why people think strip clubs are so awesome. You just get grinded on, get a raging boner, and then you can’t do anything about it.” That was the exact position I was in, except I was in my bed with this girl and not at a strip club. We kept going for a little while longer, and then she realized that she had tortured me enough. She told me that she wanted to hang out on Friday night, so I suggested we do dinner near her apartment. Right before she left she told me that she didn’t want me to jerk off between now and when we were hanging out on Friday, because she wanted me to save my load for her. Okay Ms. Stephanie. Getting a little kinky now. I can do that. The thought of me not jerking off until Friday crossed my mind and I contemplated it for maybe 10 minutes. Then I said f**k it and took myself to pound town.

So Friday night arrived, and I was definitely excited. I took the Green Line over to her place and we went out for dinner and drinks. I was actually only 20 at the time, so I had to use a fake to get into the restaurant. That’s always a little bit emasculating, especially when the girl you’re out with is 3 years older than you. We ate dinner, had a few beers, then decided it was time to head back to her apartment. Jackpot. We got back and it was only about 8 o’clock. I figured that was a decent enough time to have sex. We went to her bedroom, sat down on her bed, and I went in to kiss her. Once again, rejected. Now this just didn’t make sense. We had already established the fact that I earned the kiss. She told me to save my load for her for Christ’s sake. She told me I had to wait for it. This was getting a little annoying, but I accepted. So we went to her living room and watched TV for awhile. After an hour or so, she decided it was now the appropriate time of day to have sex, so we went back to her room.

Once there, I started with my patented kissing-of-the-neck-then-slowly-moving-down-her- breasts-then-stomach-and-eventually-vagina move. This was usually foolproof. Chicks eat that s**t up. However, when I started to move down her stomach, she grabbed my head and stopped me. She brought me back up and started kissing me a little more. Okay, maybe she wanted to do some romantic stuff before diving on in. So we did a little more over the clothes stuff and then I finally got her clothes off. I really didn’t think it was going to take this much effort, seeing as she had pre-empted our encounter with the fact that we would definitely be having sex tonight.

I took my pants off and got in position to mount her, but then she said no. She didn’t want to have sex. Ummmmmm, exsqueeze me?! Wasn’t that the reason you invited me over here tonight? She started jerking me off instead and I was very frustrated. This girl was very confusing and seemed like she was almost unstable. This went on for a while, and eventually I came. At that point, I decided I would just throw in the towel, so I rolled over and got into that I’m-gonna-go-to-sleep-now position. Apparently, she was against this because she instantly scolded me.

“What do you think you’re doing?! You’re not going to sleep. Get up, we’re gonna go watch TV.”

Wow. I felt like my mom just yelled at me, which would have been weird because she had just finished jerking me off, but I digress. Reluctantly, I got up and we walked into the living room. We threw on an episode of South Park (it happened to be the “Fish Dicks” one), so I was pretty pleased. After that sweet ep, we went back to her room, because now was apparently the appropriate time to go to sleep. We got back into bed and I rolled over to go to sleep again. Once again, a scolding followed.

“What do you think you’re doing?! I did you, and now you have to do me.”

“Um, I tried to do you before, and you didn’t let me.”

“Wel,l try again now.”

Honestly, it felt like I was in a game that I couldn’t win. I try to be a giver, and if she’s not taking, why would I keep trying. I asked her what she wanted me to do and she said I could finger her. That was it. That’s all I could do. So, I went knuckles deep for a little bit, and then she kept on critiquing me and bossing me around. I like to get bossed around in bed, but that’s usually when I’m having sex with someone and it’s a pseudo role-playing activity. This was just annoying. Slow down, speed up, softer, harder, there, no over there, no there. This was brutal. Eventually, I just told her to do it herself. So she did.

As we lay there, I wanted to get up and leave. The only reason I didn’t was because it was raining out and I didn’t want to walk in the rain. So, I sucked it up and stayed the night. When I woke up in the morning, I had a note from her saying she had a great time with me and I could stay as long as I wanted, as she had to go to work. “Not a f*****g chance in hell I’m staying here any longer than I need to.” I put my clothes on, hopped on the bus, and went back to my dorm.

As it happened, we only had a few more lab sessions together, and she had actually switched shifts, so we didn’t have to see each other. That was good, because I did not want to talk to her anymore. And that was that. We bumped into each other one other time in the lab, said hi, and we didn’t speak again.

Some people reading this might say I was a dick for only wanting sex, but I was pretty certain she was not mentally stable. This relationship was clearly not going anywhere, and I was not looking for anything serious. So if you think I’m a dick, f**k off haha.






































































The Best I Ever Had

As a follow-up to the intro of my chapter on Nicole, I’m sure everyone remembers the best girl they’ve slept with. Now this can be because it was the hottest girl, or the wildest sex, or a myriad of other reasons. For this next girl, it was a combination of the sexiest girl I had ever been with, paired with the fact it was the first girl after Nicole. Her name was Kasia and she was an absolute smoke.

It was December of 2008, about a month after the whole debacle with Nicole. I was on crutches, it was snowing, and I was depressed. Not a good combination of characteristics. Luckily, the Owl was having a Christmas party, so I figured that could cheer me up. One of my roommates, Eric, who we called Baby Buddha (you can imagine what he looked like), told us that he was inviting two of his friends from high school to the party. When he told me this, I was imagining two little frumpy Asian girls, who might be drinking alcohol for the first time. Man was I wrong.

We showed up at a pre-game in one of the dorms before heading over to the Owl and met up with Buddha and his friends there. When he introduced them to me, I must have had a look of astonishment on my face. Their names were Kasia and Courtney and they were by no means frumpy little Asian girls. Both of them were platinum blondes and Kasia was sexy as hell. Buddha had actually preempted this meeting with the fact that Courtney had a long-term boyfriend, so she was off-limits, and Kasia was sort-of seeing someone, but it wasn’t serious yet, so she was fair game. So we chatted for a little bit in the hallway and then she continued on her way with Buddha into the room. A little later on, I was playing beerpong in the hallway and I happened to notice her checking me out from a distance. I figured I should hang up my drinking game hat and put on my game-spitting hat (which for this occasion was a winter beanie made out of Miller High Life beer cans that I had taken from the basement of my parent’s house. Thanks for the help, dad!).

I moved into the room and one of the football guys was talking to her. She didn’t seem too interested, so I butted in and took over. After 10 minutes or so, everyone decided that we should head over to the Owl. Once there, Buddha and I decided to give Kasia and Courtney a tour of the house. The tour culminated on the dance floor, where Kasia and I began our lusty girations. I don’t remember the exact timeframe, but we couldn’t have been dancing for more than 15 minutes before I was getting the vibe from her that she wanted to hook up, so I offered up the option of heading back to my room. She replied with a fervent yes and we made our way back.

Once there, it didn’t take too long for clothes to start coming off. She actually got completely naked first and when I was still dilly-dallying around, she asked if I was gonna make her be naked all by herself.

“Well ma’am, I don’t think I should do that”.

So, I joined her in the nude and hopped into bed. Stunning body. She immediately started blowing me and it was fantastic. After some time, I asked if she wanted to go ahead and f**k. I felt like asking was the polite thing to do, as I had only met her a few hours ago. Surprisingly, she said she didn’t want to tonight. Hmmm, that seemed a little off, since she was almost over-willing to start blowing me, but maybe she just really enjoyed giving head (is that a thing ladies?). Anyways, I wasn’t too upset, as head is never a bad thing. After I came, we both decided to go to bed.

In the middle of the night, I woke up and I realized I was lying next to this hottie. Instantly, I became horny again. I started kissing her neck a little and she awoke. As a side note, this is kind of my go to move. When I sleep with a girl, we generally have sex once before we go to bed, once in the middle of the night, and once in the morning. Excessive? Maybe. But hey, I want to make sure I get my money’s worth. Sometimes, in the middle of the night, I don’t even realize what I’m doing. It’s almost as if I’m a sleep-f****r, as opposed to a sleep-walker. But hey, I’m sure there are worse diseases out there to have. But I digress. So Kasia woke up, realized what was going on, felt that I’ve got a raging hard-on, and continued where she left off. She dove right back into the thick of things. Love it. Ladies, this is how to win the attention of your man.

So after I finished again, we returned to our slumber and called it a night. In the morning, there was really no awkwardness. It was pretty sweet. Courtney called her to make sure she was good and I walked her over to Buddha’s room, where she was staying. Kasia and I exchanged numbers, said our peace, and she was on her merry way. After breakfast, Buddha, Alek and I sat down to discuss the happenings of the night. The first thing Buddha said was after I dropped Kasia off at his room, she told him and Courtney that she enjoyed her night and my dick was great. Hahahaha. Once again ladies, if you’re trying to please a man, tell his friends that you think his dick is great. Needless to say, this brought me out of my funk a little. Soon after our conversation ended, I had a friend request on Facebook. No, it couldn’t be, could it? She had literally been gone for an hour. What’s the etiquette on stuff like that? I looked at my friend requests and it was from a girl named Kasia. Upon closer examination, however, I realized this Kasia was a girl from Poland, who I had worked with during the summer. Very strange coincidence.

Kasia and I talked every now and then for the next week or so and then she asked what my plan for New Year’s Eve was. I explained that since the basketball team had a game at William & Mary in Virginia on the 31st, I wouldn’t be flying with them (since I was hurt), so I was probably going to go to one of the final clubs for a party. This intrigued her, as a few of her friends from the University of Tampa were actually going to be going out with her and they were looking for something to do. So Buddha and I put the logistics together and we decided that we would be partying at the Phoenix with these lovely ladies.

Everyone came over my place before the party to drink a little bit, drop off all their belongings, and get ready. Since all my roommates were either gone for the holidays or with the team in Virginia, I told them they could drop their stuff off in my roommate/teammate Doug’s room. When everyone was ready, we packed up and head on out in the blizzard to walk to the Phoenix.

Around 11, I got a text from my teammates saying they had actually just gotten back to campus and were going to meet up with us. This was great news, except when I got another text from Doug asking why there were so many bags of s**t in his room. Doug had told me earlier that he was going to be going out downtown with his girlfriend and staying at her place for the night, so I figured it wouldn’t be a problem. However, Doug typically gets angry about these types of things (his nickname was Angry Doug. Very clever, I know). Anyways, sometime after midnight, Kasia and I continued getting frisky on the dance floor and we decided that it was time to head back to my place. She obviously didn’t want to leave all her friends alone, so we all made the walk back. One of her friends, being a typical girl, said her feet were hurting from her heels and she wanted to walk home barefoot. As I mentioned earlier, it was a blizzard outside, so we told her not to. She did not take our advice. She made the 10 minute walk back to my dorm in her bare feet, and when we arrived, she regretted it. She fell into Doug’s bed crying, saying she couldn’t feel her toes, and she had frostbite, and she was going to die, blah, blah, blah. Kasia and I ended up lying with her for a while to try and calm her down. While we were in the bed, Doug and his girlfriend decided to make an appearance. Awkward moment. If I walked into my own bedroom with my girlfriend and found my roommate in bed with two girls, one of whom was balling her eyes out, I probably wouldn’t be too stoked. Doug was not too stoked.

After smoothing things over with Douglas, we brought Kasia’s friend into the living room to sleep and Kasia and I went to my bed. Much like the first time we hooked up, she was very eager to get started. This time, when I popped the question, she gave an excited yes, and the f*****g commenced. Now much like my sex with Kelsey, this was a little tough going, as I was set to have surgery on my knee a few days later. I was out of my brace this time, but still didn’t have full range of motion. The easiest thing for me to have done would obviously just lay on my back and let her do the work, but I didn’t come this far to just be an audience member for a terrific show. It’s like those dickheads that make it to contestant’s row on “Price is Right” and then bet $1 every time. If I get that far, I’m going for the exact price. That way I win an extra $500. So to get back to the story, I not only wanted to “come on down”; I wanted to jump on stage and spin the big wheel. I figured the easiest way to do this would be if we went doggy and I kept my right leg hanging off the bed, straight out, while I bent my left leg and used that for my support. This proved an excellent technique.

To this date, this was definitely the best New Year’s Eve of my life. All through my younger years, my family and I would spend New Year’s Eve playing board games and then watching the ball drop. The games were always “Don’t Go To Jail”, “Sorry”, “Yahtzee”, and “Tripoli”. We kept track of points for coming in different places and had a running tally for every year we played. My family and I have done this for about 17 years. I am the only member of my family to have never won. Not even once. So, needless to say, I was very enthused about my victory on this particular New Year’s Eve.

Kasia and I kept in touch for the week after our night together and she actually told me that she would be studying abroad for the spring semester. She also told me that the supposed guy she had been seeing for a little bit was now a lot more serious. So, not only would I not be seeing her again (or at least for many months until she returned home), she also now had a boyfriend. Great position to be in. Oh well. I obviously wasn’t looking for anything serious, so this was probably for the best. That was until I was trying to figure out what I was going to be doing for the summer.

Kasia and I happened to be chatting online during the late spring and she mentioned how she was going to be in NYC for the summer. I was still interviewing for different internships at this point and didn’t have anything set in stone. However, I came across a position at Warner Music Group in Manhattan that seemed interesting. It turned out to be an HR position and was unpaid. Not an ideal situation. I don’t want to think that Kasia had any influence on my decision making, but knowing me, she probably did. I accepted the position and headed to NYC for the summer.

Alek, my other roommate that we called Sefto, and I found a tiny, two-bedroom apartment on the upper westside. Since we were only going to be there for a few months, we didn’t really care that the rooms were impossibly small and Sefto had to sleep on a pull-out couch in the living room. It was livable.

It turned out that Kasia wasn’t actually going to be in the city until July, so I didn’t have to think about her for a while. The first month or so was pretty uneventful in the city except for one occasion (See “Potato Sack Girl”). A trip to Atlantic City, 4th of July on Long Island. Nothing too nuts. Then, one day, Kasia texted me saying she had just moved into her dorm for the summer. It was go time.

The first day that we were going to see each other, she wanted to meet me after work in Rockefeller Center. I headed down after work and found her, sitting on a bench, crying. She hadn’t mentioned anything in her texts before, so I was very confused. I sat down next to her and asked what was going on. She explained that her boyfriend had just broken up with her. This was confusing for two reasons: a.) the entire time they had been dating, she was in Europe, so why would he break up with her right when she got back, and b.) he lived on Long Island, so it would have been very convenient to see her. Those things aside, I was obviously sad for her and hugging her, but on the inside I was smiling. This could not be more perfect. She comes to NYC for the summer, newly single, and who’s here to greet her? This guy!

The first few days, we would meet up after work, grab a drink or some food and then she would come over my place. Nothing ever happened, as I obviously didn’t want to rush anything, since she was still getting over her boyfriend. She brought up the fact that she was staying at NYU, as it was a lot cheaper for her. The only thing was she had to move out by the first week of August, so they could get the dorms ready for the school year. Her internship wasn’t up until the end of August, so she needed a place to crash for 3 weeks. I knew that Alek was going to be going back home the first week of August, as his internship was finishing up then, so I brought up the idea of her moving in with me for a few weeks. She was super excited. Looking back on my decision (as with a lot of decisions in this book), it probably wasn’t the best idea. What’s that saying? Don’t s**t where you sleep, don’t f**k where you eat (or something like that). Logically, she accepted.

A few days later, she came over again after work and I figured this was the time to try and get things going. She had already said she was gonna move in with me for a few weeks where, undoubtedly, we would be having sex with each other. I thought we might as well grease the wheels now, before we went from 0-60. So, we were watching TV on my couch, I looked over in her direction, and I moved in for a kiss. However, much like with Stephanie (See “My Third Lesbian”), she slightly turned her head and I ended up landing a kiss on her cheek. Not very smooth, Pat, not very smooth at all. Unlike, Stephanie, she was not a crazy person about it, and we both just shrugged it off as if it was a European gesture on my part. We finished watching TV and I walked her home. When I dropped her off, she said she was sorry for not kissing me, but she was just getting over her boyfriend still. She did say, however, that in due time things would be good to go. I said that was fair and looked forward to when that time would come. Another night after hanging out, I got a text from her saying it sucked that she had to walk home and couldn’t stay the night. I assured her that in a little time that would be the case. According to these interactions, it seemed like she was getting over her boyfriend and was ready to hop back into it with me, so I definitely looked forward to her moving in soon.

The time had come. She was all set to move in. Since she actually had to be out of her dorm the day before Alek was set to leave town, all 4 of us had to spend one night in the apartment together. Logically, Kasia and I would share my bed, Alek would stay in his, and Sefto would sleep on the couch. It all made sense and Kasia agreed. I love it how life just throws you softballs sometimes. When the time came, Kasia and I ventured into my room for the night. So a few important things here. First of all, the summer of 2009 was probably the hottest summer in NYC on record. Absolutely brutal. Obviously, we didn’t have any sort of air conditioning, so sleeping was pretty uncomfortable. Secondly, we were subletting this apartment from a mother and child for the summer. I had the child’s room. He had the smallest twin bed I’ve ever slept in. Now, throw in the fact that I would be sharing this bed with someone and you’ve got a recipe for a pretty disastrous slumber. I wasn’t thinking that far in advance, as my eyes were set on the prize in front of me.

I figured we would jump into bed and it would be very similar to the past two times we were in that position. I was wrong. We talked for a little bit and then she decided it was time we go to sleep. I tried a few things like rubbing her legs and cuddling up a little closer to her, but she wasn’t feeling it. She came to this bed to sleep and God damnit, she was going to sleep. So that was it for the night. An uncomfortable sleep session and no sex. Strike one.

Okay, so maybe she didn’t want to hook up on our first night in the new apartment. That’s fine. No big deal. I’ve got a few weeks to get this going again. Soon after Alek left, Sefto also moved out for the summer, so it was down to just me and her. Maybe she didn’t want to hook up while there was someone else living in the apartment. Now things could get going. However, it seemed like she was going to be away all three weekends and wasn’t around after work a whole lot. This decision might have backfired big time. The worst part of the whole situation was she would walk around the apartment in her bra and panties, as if I was just a guy living with her. Straight disrespect towards me. The frustration came to a head when a friend of hers came to visit and I woke up in the morning to the sight of two guys sleeping on the couch in the living room. Alright, that was it. Obviously she wasn’t interested in me anymore and was just using me for an apartment. That’s when I decided to venture out and find a new escapade for myself (see “My First Asian”).

The summer came to an end and we bid each other adieu. A few months later, it turned out she was back together with her old boyfriend. I guess that made some sense as to why she didn’t want to hook up with me during the summer. She’s still with him, 3 years later, so I guess it was for the better. She did drunk text me one night my senior year. We talked for a little and then she asked me what one of my fantasies was. “Ummmm, are we really gonna do this now?” I didn’t feel like being too creative so I just told her I would want her to dress up like a school-girl that I could punish for being naughty. Pretty standard play there I think. In the morning, she realized what she was doing, apologized, and said it was probably best if we didn’t keep flirting like that. Yeah, you’re probably right.

So that was Kasia. I did meet up with her in NYC for dinner before I moved out to LA, but other than that, there has been no contact. Still keeping my fingers crossed though...











































Potato Sack Girl

So, according to Urban Dictionary, a Potato Sack Girl is “a girl who is so impossibly hot and cute at the same time that you just want to throw her in a potato sack and marry the s**t out of her”. Nikki embodies everything there is about being a sacker.

She was a year above me at Harvard and also on the basketball team, so I instantly gained an attraction towards her. However, this was no typical Harvard female basketball player (I’m sure most of you have an image of a butch, muscular chick). No, no, no my friend. I like to think of Nikki as a non-famous Jessica Biel. Just a good ole’ hometown hottie. My other friends at school definitely agreed with me that she was hot, but none of them wanted to go to the same level of describing her as me. Actually, my friend Darryl came to my house once and saw a picture of my mom from the 60’s and thought Nikki looked just like her. It was very depressing for me to come to the realization that I had some sort of repressed Oedipus Complex that was now coming to fruition, but I didn’t let that deter me.

Anyways, back to Nikki. So we never really talked that much away from the athletic facilities. I always got super nervous around her and whenever we did talk, I felt like she was speaking to me more as a little brother, which obviously sucked. The other thing that sucked was the fact that she had a boyfriend my entire freshman, sophomore and junior year of college. And as we all know, nothing is a bigger cockblock than a boyfriend. Additionally, hooking up with a few of her teammates didn’t help me. So, I was dug into a pretty deep hole before I could even try to make something happen. Then, her senior year, she and her boyfriend broke up. It was glorious. The time had finally come. Unfortunately, my teammate Oliver happened to get to her first.

During my junior spring, at one of the house formals, Oliver snuck off with her and they hooked up. I didn’t get all of the details from him, but it was a devastating blow, seeing as he was a freshman and barely even talked to her. Now, some people might have heard this news and given up. Well, not me. I tried to put a positive spin on it and took it as she was ready to move on from her boyfriend and was a little extra promiscuous now. So I pardoned Oliver and went on with my life. Then, that summer, I got my golden opportunity.

That summer, as you recall, I lived in Manhattan. It was definitely a new experience for me, as the previous summer I lived on Lake Winnipesaukee in NH and every year before then I was in Duxbury. So living in the big city was a little overwhelming for me. I was living with my buddies Alek and Eric, however, so that helped a little bit. Nikki had graduated and moved to SF to attend medical school, so I figured my chances with her were gone. Then, one day, she texted me saying that she was gonna be in NYC for the weekend to go to her friend’s birthday party and wanted to know if I was around. Obviously, I was sufficiently stoked to receive this news. I blocked off my schedule for the weekend and got all dolled up.

That Friday night, she texted me saying that her friend was going to a bar on the East Side to pregame before they went somewhere else. So, Alek, Eric and I headed on out and my mission began. When we got to the bar, she was already hammered, wearing a lacrosse piney and a black leather skirt. Was this going to be easier than I thought? Probably not. Game face on. The bar was kind of a dump, as there were about 6 tables set up for flipcup and beerpong, but it served its purpose. We stayed there for awhile and Alek actually got caught up with another girl, not with Nikki’s group. When we were getting ready to move along to the next bar, Alek decided to stay and explore this other option. We said our peace, wished each other luck, and carried on with our evenings.

The next stop on our journey was an upclass, rooftop bar. Quite the contrast from our first destination, but I rolled with it. We got up top and actually found a table to chill at. Soon after sitting down, a guy came over, sat next to Nikki, and started chatting her up. Now normally, I’m not the type of guy to try and fend off dudes trying to hit on a girl. As I’ve mentioned before, I’m more of a lay-low-play-it-cool-don’t-say-a-god-damn-word type of guy at the bar. This time though, I felt like it was my last chance to try and get with J Biel, so I decided to get out of my comfort zone. I could tell she wasn’t feeling the guy so I put my arm around her and stole her away. Baller move in my eyes. She definitely appreciated it. As the night went on, we kept talking and drinking and things seemed like they were moving in a positive direction. Around 1, Alek texted me saying he was unsuccessful with his girl and wanted to come meet up with us. He decided to take a cross-town cab and got there the second we were leaving. He was sooooo pissed. Alek is not the type of person to want to spend money. So when he saw me leaving the second he got out of his cab, he let me have it. Then, I explained that I was leaving because I was getting in a cab to go back with Nikki and her friends. He still wasn’t thrilled. Whatever, f**k him haha.

So I hopped in the cab with Nikki and her two friends and went back to their apartment. Now, at this point of the evening, I was feeling pretty good about my chances. I had put in my work and got the invite back to an apartment. That was all I needed. So we made it back, and the girls wanted to head up to the rooftop. I obliged, as I didn’t need to try and get it in immediately. The rooftop was dope. A bunch of lawn chairs spread out everywhere and a beautiful view of the city. Not a bad place to be. After the 4 of us were up there for a little while, it dawned on me that Nikki’s two friends were lesbians. It might have been the fact that they were making out with each other, or something else that gave it away. Either way, they were getting pretty handsy and told us that they were going to go back downstairs to the apartment, but we should stay up here. Nikki and I both looked at each other and had that middle-school moment, when your friends leave you alone in a room to make sure that you make out. It was precious.

Now, it was gametime. Everything had been building up to this moment. We kept talking about nothing for a few moments, and then she started laughing to herself, but wouldn’t tell me why. She was acting all shy and then finally said she thought I was really cute and wanted to hook up with me. Seriously?! That information could have been useful to me like 3 years ago, but I’ll take it. I told her that I had always had a huge crush on her, thinking it would be an instant panty-dropper. However, it would take a little more convincing on my end. She said that she felt like she couldn’t hook up with me because of her friends that I had hooked up with. She felt really bad about it, or some girl bullshit. I told her that that was a while ago and everything was fine now, but she said she still didn’t feel comfortable. Then, I mentioned the fact that she had hooked up with Oliver, and she had one of those aha moments. “Wait a minute, you’re right! It would be like the same thing!”. Perfect. So, as they say, it was on. She jumped on top of me and started straddling me in the lawn chair. We were making out and I went to grab her a*s up her skirt. Much to my surprise, it appeared she was not wearing any panties. Wearing a skirt out to a bar in NYC with no panties? Bold move madam. I ain’t mad at you though. Needless to say, I took this as an open invitation to start the festivities. I laid her down on the lawn chair and initiated my go-to move (classic Pat). So, I spread her legs and was about to dive in face-first when I caught a glimpse of what she had going on down there. It pains me to say, but I was not impressed. Not by the fact that it wasn’t well-kept, but more with the fact that it seemed like there were too many lips. It was like a roast beef sandwich with too much meat. However, I didn’t let this setback turn me away.

After a few minutes of warming up the oven, she told me that she wanted a turn, so I swapped spots and laid back. There I was, laying on a rooftop, staring out on the lights of Manhattan, getting blown by my college crush. “This is what heaven must feel like”, I thought to myself. Then, it all took a turn for the worse. I looked over to my right and noticed that there was a security camera pointing right at us. Unaware of what the laws are when it comes to felatio on a rooftop, I half-jokingly pointed this out to Nikki. She did not take it half-jokingly; she took it zero-jokingly. She kind of freaked out and requested that we move this party inside. That was fine with me, as I needed to piss wicked bad anyways. When we got back to her friend’s apartment, I jumped into the bathroom. When I got out, though, Nikki had an upset look on her face. It turned out that her friend had a few other friends spending the night and there was nowhere for us to go. Both of the bedrooms were occupied and there were a few people sleeping on the couches and the floor of the living room. This was not happening to me. I asked her if she wanted to go back up to the roof, since that seemed like our only option, but she declined, citing the security cameras as a boner-kill.

“Well, what can we do then?” I questioned.

“I don’t think there is anything we can do.”

“What do you mean?!?!”

“I think we’re gonna have to call it a night. I wish the circumstances were different, but it doesn’t look like there’s anything we can do.”

And that was that. Despite my pleas, it was not happening. I had cockblocked myself. Worst feeling ever. I walked home cursing at myself. I had a taste of the sweet honey at the top of the mountain and then felt the crushing blow of defeat from the far tumble down. I texted her the next day to see if she wanted to meet up for dinner, but it was to no avail. Since then, I have only seen and spoken to her once, as she now has a new boyfriend. And so goes this crazy little thing called life. One moment, you’re getting blown on a rooftop in NYC, and the next, you’re crying yourself to sleep, dick in hand.





































Mystery Story

So I am leaving the title of this story up to the imagination because I felt the original title I had gave it away, thus ruining the excitement. I want to make sure everyone has that “Aha!” moment in this one. Also, it’s a short one, but as all ladies know, it’s not the length that matters; it’s the girth. Not really, but, oh my, is this story girthy. Enjoy…

It was Senior winter. That time of the year when the only people on campus are athletes with sports going on, research students, and international kids who don’t want to fly halfway around the world. This was typically the time of the year when the most incest between the girl’s and guy’s basketball teams commenced, as there was really nobody else to hang out with (except for the track team, but there was no way Kelsey and I were going to be rekindling any flames).

As Harvard had just changed its finals schedule to before Christmas, as opposed to the middle of January, we now had 3 full weeks in which we had nothing to do but practice, go play video games in our rooms, and go out at night. On one Friday night, both the girl’s and guy’s basketball team decided to have a party at the Phoenix (yes the same Phoenix from The Social Network. God everyone get off that movie’s dick already). Anywho, everyone is inside having a good time and all of a sudden I find myself dancing with a girl on the team that I had never really talked to before. Her name was Christine and I had obviously said hello in the gym or spoken to her if we were with a group of people, but I don’t think I had ever had a meaningful conversation with only her. She didn’t look great, but at this part of the year, when it felt like I was trapped in The Shining for three weeks, adjustments needed to be made.

My teammates and I talked about every girl on the team. Which ones we would f**k. Which ones were absolutely un-fuckable. Which ones we might try if the circumstances were right. Christine was one of those girls that was always just mulled over. She definitely was not the worst girl on the team. She easily wasn’t the best. She wasn’t fat, but she also wouldn’t be regarded as skinny. I think frumpy was the word we used for her.

So Frumplestiltskin and I start dancing and were not holding much back. We sort of make our way to the dark corner of the room, away from the attention of others. Next thing I know, we start making out. First thing I noticed was how soft of a tongue she had. Weird thing to say? I don’t care. I think I was expecting something rough and forced with the kiss, but what I got was soft and fluffy. It was really nice actually. This instantly brought her up a point on my scale. So it starts to get late and we decide to head back to her room. She brings her roommate, Lindsay along, who I was much better friends with and I figured things would soon get going. When we made it back to her place, we turned on The Departed (sweet-a*s movie), and the three of us are kind of just sitting there enjoying the flick. After about an hour, with no progress being made (and I can’t say I was trying because at this point I had begun to sober up), Lindsay and Christine said they were going to go to bed because they had practice in the morning. I took my cue to leave, bid my adieu, and headed on home. I took this encounter as God’s way of telling me that this had been a close one, but he wasn’t always going to have my back. He saved me this time, but if I tried it again, He was going to smite me. And smite me He did.

The very next night (I’m not a very religious man as you can tell), the same scenario played out. Everyone was back at the Phoenix having a good time and I once again found myself dancing with Christine. Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice, shame on me and my horny self. We started making out again and were a little more abrupt in our pursuit back to her room. I knew what was going down and frankly, I didn’t give a damn. I wanted to finish what I started. You can’t fault me for being thorough with my work.

We got back to her room and immediately clothes start coming off. And by clothes, I mean her clothes. I usually like to start my love making by being a gentleman and munching a little box (too much?). My friends always wondered why I would go down on a girl.

“That’s so disgusting” they would say.

When I asked them how it was any different from a girl blowing a guy, they would call me a feminist and say it was completely different. When I told them that I liked to pleasure her first, so she would in turn do me, they said how she should be doing that anyways. I don’t know, maybe I’m just old-fashioned.

Anyways, so as I dove on in, I didn’t know what to expect. Was this going to be the last time I would ever be able to face a vagina since it was so disturbing? I really didn’t set the bar too high for myself, as I was hoping to be back up in a minute or two to get the party started. Much to my amazement, just like with the kiss, her p***y was one of the better ones I’ve ever had the pleasure to meet. It was clean, un-floppy, and was virtually tasteless. Not much more you can ask for. I actually found myself engulfed down there for around 5 minutes, as time kind of flies when you’re eating p***y.

After I decided that I had had my fill and I wanted a little in return, I came up for air and started taking my pants off. She immediately stopped me and when I asked why, she said she couldn’t do it because I had hooked up with her teammate/friend Katie. I thought that was a bullshit excuse, but when I tried to convince her again she said she couldn’t do it and thought that I should leave. Unbelievable. I go down on you and I can’t even get an HJ in return? F*****g girls. She walked me to her front door, apologized again, and I was on my way. Once again, I was distraught, disheartened, and downtrodden. Just completely defeated, like a puppy that tried so hard to get its owners attention, but then has to retreat back to its bed when the owner is being an a*****e.

I got outside to walk back to my dorm and it was snowing. Just a s****y night. It was late, cold, I was starting to sober up, and I wasted my time licking clam to get nothing in return. I spit into the snow in disgust and that’s when I noticed something. It was almost as if my spit had burned a hole in the snow and eroded it like acid. A dark, red acid. I spit again, to make sure I wasn’t seeing things and once again, a red liquid came out. I touched my mouth with my fingers to see if I had somehow bitten my lip and I was bleeding. As I looked down at my hand, I noticed that not only were my fingertips covered in blood, but I had blood up to my second knuckle. My mind started racing and I didn’t want to expect the worst. However, I think that was my only option at that time. Did Christine really let me go down on her when she was on her period? She couldn’t have. I must have triggered it or something. I had big sausage fingers. Maybe when I stuck a few up there it somehow dislodged her mess. Can that happen? Ladies, you know better than I do, so you can be the judge.

I sprinted home, right into the bathroom. When I turned on the light and looked into the mirror, I didn’t like the face staring back at me. Not because I was disgusted with myself (although I was that too), but because the face staring back at me had a nice beard that was dyed red. I had transformed from Patrick Magnarelli, the unassuming gentleman who enjoys giving a lady pleasure, to Captain Redbeard, the no-holds-barred, blood-thirsty fellatier (I was originally going to call this story “Captain Redbeard”, but as you can now see, that might have given away the excitement). This would be the point of the movie when the camera does a circular pan-out from above, with me screaming “Nooooooooooooo!!!!!!” I just wanted the nightmare to end. I texted Christine, “Oh, by the way, you forgot to mention you were on your period!” She apologized intently and explained how she had no idea she was on her period. Ladies, once again, what do you think? I call bullshit. Why else would she just decide I should leave when we’re about to f**k? Because of her friend? F**k that. I, along with everyone else know that girls are ruthless. They don’t care if you fucked their friend. And it’s not even like it was her best friend. Katie had already graduated! Nope, not buying it. I fell asleep and when I woke up, I had hoped it was just a terrible dream. It was not.

I walked down to the gym in the morning, knowing that I had to tell someone. This story was too good (even if it was degrading towards both me and Christine) to not go untold. Obviously, I was going to tell my teammates. I had to. They were my brothers, and, as you can tell by the fact that I’m sharing these stories with you now, I’m not too shy when it comes to sharing sexual stories. Before practice started, I gathered everyone into the center of the locker room. I told them that something had happened to me last night and they had to know. A few of them had seen me making out with Christine at the Phoenix, so they assumed it had something to do with her. As I was telling it, a few of them started to realize what had happened at different moments, much like what probably happened with you. As soon as I said I was going down on her, they started to groan. Then a few more caught on when I told them I spit into the snow. The final stragglers got it when I said I saw my hands covered in blood. The first question, aside from what the f**k was I thinking hooking up with Christine, was how could I not taste anything. Honestly, I don’t know. I was pretty drunk. Maybe, since I wasn’t looking to taste blood, I didn’t notice it. A little Placebo Effect possibly? Also, it’s not like I was guzzling blood like a f*****g vampire. It was only a little bit, that happened to be spread around a lot. Obviously, if I tasted blood I would have stopped (I’d like to think).

My teammates gave me s**t, but ultimately they laughed it off and applauded me for having the balls to tell everyone. Whether Christine told her teammates as well, or the guy’s team told their female counterparts, I’m not sure. But they all knew and soon the story spread to more than just the two teams. I told all my roommates and I’m sure they told people, who told people, who told people. It was like f*****g Pay It Forward. I liked to think that it would only help me in my sexual endeavors as girls would think that I stop at nothing to perform oral. Was that the case? I guess we’ll never know.

Oh, also. All my friends thought it was disgusting that I didn’t immediately shave my beard when it happened. Instead, I waited about 4 days. I don’t like shaving and chicks like scruff. So sue me.































The One That Never Was

Ah, yes. The one that got away. Everyone’s got one. She could be a girl you pined over forever, planning out your perfect white wedding, but it just never worked out, or a girl you just always wanted to hook up with, but didn’t. For me, Grace was the girl that I had the opportunity to have sex with on multiple occasions, but it just never worked out.

I alluded to my friend Jeremy earlier in the book (See “Slip n’ Slide Part II). Well he happens to be Jeremy Lin. When I started this book, he was still playing on the Warriors and nobody, outside of the Asian and Harvard community knew who the f**k he was. Then, the whole Linsanity thing happened and he was an international superstar overnight. I mention this because he is the person who originally introduced me to Grace.

Jeremy was dating Grace’s sister at the time. He has a rule about dating. The girl has to meet the 5 C’s: Chinese, Cute, Christian, Cooks and Cleans. Yeah, that’ a real thing. So all you White, Sexy, Jewish non-homemakers, keep your panties on. Anyways, Christine met all these things, except for the Chinese part. She was Korean, but he let that slide. Jeremy first told me about Grace because she was a little frisky minx and he figured I would have an easy shot with her. Also, he said she liked white guys (what Asian girl doesn’t?), so that definitely helped my odds. So, sophomore spring (God, I was busy then) I made my approach.

I remember my first real interaction with her was at a party at the Owl (surprise). My teammate Darryl and I were feeling especially on the prowl that night. He had heard some things about Grace, so we came up with the genius idea of trying to have a threesome with her. Yeah, weird, I know. Her freshman year, she was looked at as a little over-promiscuous, until she got a boyfriend. She was recently single, however, so we were hoping she was reverting to her old ways. Darryl and I saw her on the second floor of the Owl, so we made our attempt.

Looking back on it now, this is really creepy. The three of us walked into the TV room and all the lights were off. She sat down on the couch and Darryl slightly closed one of the doors. We sat there for a little and Darryl tried to induce the actions. He was somewhat of a connoisseur when it came to threeways. I don’t know how he pulled it off, but he did. And for those of you people out there reading this wondering why guys would ever want to have a threesome with another guy, I’ll tell you why. It’s a bonding activity and a sense of accomplishment that you can share with a friend. Some people like to climb mountains or run marathons to feel accomplished. Others like to plug a girl at the same time with their friend. To each his own. Some people think it’s a little homosexual. “Dude, that’s so gross. You’re going to be seeing his dick.” Oh please, like you’ve never seen another guy’s dick before. I spent 4 years of my life in a locker room with naked dudes. And most men who jerk off while watching porn, are usually watching some sort of straight porn, and can’t wait for the money shot, so turn those judging eyes away. But I digress; back to the matter at hand.

It dawned on us that a threeway was not going to be happening on this occasion, so we went back downstairs. Darryl disappeared for awhile, so Grace and I went into the backyard. Jeremy and his girlfriend were out there, so we chatted with them for a bit. Then, Grace and I walked over to the corner of the courtyard, where most people pee, and started making out. Romantic. I believe I actually heard cheers from Jeremy. One thing led to another, and before long, Grace and I were walking back to her dorm room. Time to get my Asian swag on. She was going to be my first, so I was pretty stoked, after all those years of jerking it to Asa Akira online.

We got to her door, walked straight through the living room and into her bedroom. She was not f*****g around. We laid down on her bed, and continued our tongue tango. Soon, she said she needed to go to the bathroom real quick. My understanding was girls say that right before they’re going to have sex because they need to freshen up. Get the little kitty ready for show. So, I obviously got excited. She came back, jumped back into bed, and then about 10 seconds later, she started balling her eyes out. HO-LY S**T. What the f**k was going on? When I asked what I did, she said it wasn’t me. She explained how she had been seeing a guy for a while, and didn’t want to go back to the way she was before. By “way she was before”, I believe she was referring to “f**k a lot of guys”. So, she kindly asked me to leave and deeply apologized. I got back to my dorm wondering what the f**k had just happened. She sent me a text the next day apologizing again and I just responded with an “It’s okay. No worries. I understand.” And that was that.

Fast forward about 9 months (no she wasn’t pregnant, but our next encounter came during the winter of my junior year). We had talked every once in awhile over the rest of the semesters, as her sister was still dating Jeremy, but we didn’t hang out that much. Then, one night, the four of us went out to a Korean BBQ spot for dinner. I forget exactly how this all came about, as it seemed very date-like and relationshipy, but I decided to go along with it. We showed up at the spot, me being the token white guy in the whole restaurant, and had a lovely dinner. Then, we got back to Jeremy’s room and popped in Wall-E. He didn’t have a couch in his room, just a big a*s bed, so the 4 of us cuddled up underneath the blankets and enjoyed the cinema. Before long, Grace and I had somehow ended up hand-in-hand under the covers. Not sure what was going on here, but I didn’t mind it. When the movie finished, I told her I would walk her home, so we ditched Jeremy and Christine and headed out. When we got outside, I asked her if she wanted to go to my room instead. She said yes. “Okay, here we go. It’s been a long time coming, but I think we’re actually gonna have sex this time.”

We got up to my room, and hopped into my bed. I figured I needed to ease her into it, seeing as last time didn’t go so well. Well, that didn’t last too long, as before long, I found myself face to face with her cooter. Just a standard Magnarelli play there. After a little bit, I pulled myself up and figured we’d start going at it. Wrong again! She, once again, stated that she couldn’t do it. She was trying to play the whole “good girl” card, saying she didn’t want to just hook up with random guys anymore. A very frustrating experience for me, to say the least. So, she left and I was alone once again. Like before, we would talk every once in awhile throughout the semester, but nothing serious. Things were still pretty awkward. Then, I moved to NYC for the summer. As mentioned in a previous story, I was expecting to be hooking up with Kasia for that summer (See “The Best I Ever Had). Well, when I saw that wasn’t working out, I figured I need to broaden my reach.

Grace was from Westchester in New York and working in the city for the summer, so we talked a few times. It actually got to the point where I asked her out for drinks after work. Just greasing those wheels. Drinks went well, so I suggested we hang out again. About a week later, on a Friday night, I got a text from her saying she was out with a few friends and we (Alek, Eric and I) should meet up. Eric’s parents were in town for the weekend, so we actually went to dinner with them instead, but I told her we would meet up after. Dinner went a little longer than planned and by the time we got back to our apartment, it was already pretty late. Grace was on the East Side and we were living on the Upper Westside, so I told her I was just gonna chill for the night. That’s when she said that she would just come to me then. Oh really? You’re gonna do that, are you? Game on.

About 45 minutes later, she called me saying she was outside of my apartment. She had walked there. That’s dedication homes. I met her on the street, picked her up and brought her inside. She seemed pretty drunk, which was optimistic for me. We went upstairs to my place, where Eric and Alek were awaiting her visit. We were each about 6 beers deep and watching The Da Vinci Code, so you know we were in a good mood! We stayed out there for about 20 minutes, and then I invited her into my room. She obliged. So this was it. It had to be the time we fucked. I was 0-2, but I had a good feeling about this one. We got into my bed and it was on.

Clothes came off pretty quickly and things were going smoothly. We were pleasing each other with our hands for the time being. I tried to make a move to slip it in, but she said no. Hmm okay. Not quite yet, that’s fine. We kept going and I figured it was time to try again. Once again, rejected. I looked at her, and she did not look good. Like almost-passing-out not good. She was really drunk and I did not feel comfortable with this anymore. I laid down next to her and we went to sleep.

In the morning, she said, “I should probably explain last night”. Yeah, that would be nice. She said that she had made a promise to herself that she was only going to hook up with her boyfriends from now on. No more random sex. She had to be in a relationship to do it (I feel like I had heard that before). I was not desperate enough at that moment to say, “Okay, let’s do it then. Let’s start a relationship!”. So, I let it fly. She did, however, want to make it up to me a little, so she gave me a nice little HJ.

My senior year, we stayed friends, even though we both realized nothing was going to happen, and that was that. The one that never was. It could have been so magical. From what Jeremy had told me earlier on, she was a freak. He said that she had told him that she was bomb in bed. I think she was jealous of her sister, which is why she told him that, but still, it woulda been nice to find out.

UPDATE: It’s the weekend of Harvard-Yale, 2012. Two years since I have last seen/talked to Grace. I updated my Facebook status saying I was heading back to Cambridge for the weekend’s festivities and wouldn’t you know it, Grace commented saying she was going to be there too. Last time I checked, it seemed like she had a boyfriend, but looking at her Facebook page now, there didn’t seem to be any man in her life. I had originally planned on heading back to school for the weekend to meet up with all my old roommates, but now maybe there was another reason for heading back. God has a plan for all of us, right?

On Saturday afternoon, right after the game, I texted Grace to see if she was around. She immediately texted me back with all capital letters and exclamation points and smiley faces saying she wanted to see me. From that, I gathered that she probably didn’t have boyfriend. Safe assumption? I think so. We had decided that we were going to meet up after I had dinner with all of my friends.

After dinner, she and her friend that she was staying with were waiting for us in Harvard Square. I got a big hug and then we went to the bar for the night. Drinks started flowing and we began catching up. Yeah, she definitely didn’t have a boyfriend. Throughout the night, there was more and more touching. What started as mere grazes on the back, turned into straight up leg rubbing and hand holding by 11:30. Then, after midnight, as my friends started heading out to other bars, we grabbed a seat. She was latching onto me and we started making out right then and there. Okay, this is it! This is the night we finally f**k! I was getting pretty stoked, and so were my friends, who knew the history between us.

She told me she was staying with her friend near the Prudential Tower, but that I should go back with her. So, after about 15 minutes of waiting, we grabbed a cab and went to her friend's place. Her friends had actually left before us, so we were alone. I thought we would continue our foreplay on the ride over, but she just put her head on my shoulder and almost fell asleep. When we showed up at her friend’s, I was greeted with an "Oh, you're coming in?" It was in a very bitchy and off-putting tone, which was strange because at the bar, she was actually nice. I shrugged it off. Grace and I made it into the living room and her friend went to her room for the evening. After 5 minutes or so of making out, Grace said she had to go to the bathroom. As I mentioned earlier in the story, I believe that is the universal girl code for “I’m going to go freshen up my p***y to make sure it’s good to go”, so I was pretty excited. I positioned myself on the couch and when she came back, she jumped on top of me. Things started to get going a little bit more, and then all of a sudden, her friend came out of her room and walked over to us. At this point, I was straddling Grace (still fully clothed), but in an awkward position for guests.




"I hate to break this up, but my other roommate is kind of sensitive and I don't want to upset her, so you're going to have to leave."




Ummmmmmmm, what?!?! I kind of laughed it off. She did not find this as amusing as I did, as she responded with, "No, I'm serious. You can't be over here. You have to go." This was all very confusing to me. It's not like we were even disturbing anyone. Everyone was asleep and we weren't making any noise at all. When I realized this was actually happening to me, I put my shoes on and got ready to leave. Grace told me she was really sorry and that we probably should have just gone back to my brother’s apartment (which was right next to the original bar we were at) instead. So, at 3 am, I took a cab back to the square and slept at my brother's place. This was unreal. I was astounded.




I woke up the next morning to a text that read, "OMG, I'm so sorry about that. I totally wasn't expecting her to do that. I was sad you had to go :( I should have left with you....."




Yeah f*****g right! She had this all planned out. I'm assuming what happened was she pulled the same s**t she always did with me and realized she didn't want to hook up after we had already gone to her friend's place, and then when she "went to the bathroom", she actually told her friend to come out in like 5 minutes and kick me out, and now she was just trying to save face.




Or, she actually wanted to leave port on the U.S.S Redbeard and her friend was just being a c**t. Either way, I don’t think I’m going to get suckered into her games again. Because we all know how good I am at saying no…


































The Hipster

Senior spring. Are there any two sweeter words to a college student? It’s that time of your life when you really can live carefree. You’ve got a light course load, hopefully already have a job lined up, and can kick back and relax. For me, I actually had to take 5 classes for the first time all college, since I decided to drop a research class halfway through my junior fall. Also, I didn’t have a job lined up and was going on interviews every week. But hey, I still was able to say f**k it and relax. Basketball had come to an end, so I no longer had to work out every day and could instead spend that time playing Halo, drinking, and continuing on with my mischievous antics.

This next girl’s name was Colleen, and as you can tell by the title, I referred to her as a hipster. Being from New England, I never really came across hipsters growing up. Now that I have been living in Venice Beach for the last 2 years, I have a much better understanding of what it means to be one. But at the time, I thought anyone who dressed like a hippie and wore lipstick was considered a hipster. For the purpose of this story, we’ll use my definition.

I met Colleen one night in the basement of the Delphic, another of the clubs on campus. The Delphic was very similar to the Owl, with regards to the type of guy who was a member. Both clubs were home to a lot of athletes and didn’t hold itself to that high of a standard. By that I mean the Delphic and Owl knew their purpose on campus; be the houses that allowed everyone into the parties and show everyone a good time. Now the basement of the Delphic was a whole nother beast. Underclassmen guys were usually restricted to the basement, unless they knew someone in the club. It was dark, dingy, and small. However, it was also the only part of the house where people danced, so it was a small tradeoff for being uncomfortable. On this particular evening, I found myself reliving my younger years and ventured downstairs.

After being there for about 10 minutes, I realized that there wasn’t much talent, but I wasn’t going to let that ruin my evening. I bumped into one of my freshman teammates, Peter, down there. I don’t know what it is, but I feel like upperclassmen on teams always want to show the underclassmen that they’re cool off the court. Like, the older guys always feel that the underclassmen don’t like them, so they need to show them they can have fun. I think that’s what came over me on this night, even though Peter and I were cool before that, but I still felt like I needed to be the cool older guy. So, I made the dance floor my playground.

Like most white guys, I can’t dance. I didn’t let that stop me though. Whenever I get drunk enough to dance, I usually have two go-to moves. One of them entails me almost doing a hokey-pokey maneuver with my fight, while I bounce up and down a little. My feet shuffle below me as if I’m doing the moonwalk, but not going anywhere. That’s usually the nice warm-up, before I get to my finisher: The Noodle. The Noodle has become pretty popular amongst my friends in LA, but it originated back on the east coast. For all you trying to learn a new dance move at home, take notes. First, set up your legs a little further than shoulder-width apart. You want to make sure you have a nice base established for this move. Then, start bouncing up and down as a nice warmup/teaser. Next, dangle both of your arms in front of you and let them go limp. You’re going to want to make sure you get plenty of floppy arm flailing. Finally, put it all together and start bouncing uncontrollably while your arms have a mind of their own. The goal is to bring it as low to floor as you can.

If executed correctly, this can be a real party-starter. People don’t know whether to laugh, or join along. On this particular occasion, my mating dance attracted a suitor. Colleen joined in on the fun and before too long, the Noodling had progressed into an all-out grind session. I shot a few looks over to Peter, as if to say, “This old dog’s still got it.” After some time had passed, I invited Colleen back to my place.

When we got back, a few of my roommates were in the living room.

“Colleen?!”

“Eric?!”

“Good to see you, I guess?”

“Yeah, you too.”

This was good. My roommate Sefto was apparently friends with her. Not in any kind of sexual way, but it’s always strange when a friend of yours comes over your room late at night to bone your roommate. Then, Baby Buddha came into the room, drunk out of his mind, and in his boxers. He plopped down directly across from me and Colleen, and his testicles proceeded to fall out of the bottom of his underpants. Little Asian balls, just dangling there. Quite the sight to bring a girl home to. At that point, I figured it was time to move the party into the bedroom. As things got going, it dawned on me that she was going to be a little animated. Gotta love the enthusiasm. Nobody likes a dead fish. Also, she had a thick little a*s on her, which always makes doggy-style a little more fun. If I have sex with a really skinny girl with no a*s, I feel like I’m just hurting her tailbone when I f**k from behind. However, when there’s a cushion there to catch my thrusts, it’s much better. Anyways, we finished up, I rolled over on the bed, and then she said something to me. Looking back on it now, it’s not really that funny, but at the time, I found it hilarious (and so did all my roommates when I told them). Maybe it was the booze talking, or maybe she was truly genuine in her comment. Either way, she looked at me and said,

“You’re good at sex.”

That was it. “You’re good at sex.” Usually, if a girl says anything, it’s more along the lines of “Wow, that was fun,” or “Pat, I think I just saw God.” This was like something you would imagine from a bad high school comedy movie where the kids don’t know anything about f*****g. Like “You’re b***s are pretty,” “I like your penis,” or “You’re good at sex.” I really didn’t know how to respond, so I just said thank you and we went to sleep.

The next day, I told some of my buddies about my evening. They found it all pretty funny. Then, Oliver went into my room to throw something away and came back into the living room screaming and carrying my trash can.

“Dude, you did it again!”

“What do you mean?!”

“She was on her period!”

This, obviously, was in reference to my Captain Redbeard story from earlier, which had happened about 2 months prior to this encounter. Oliver showed us the trashcan and there was my used condom, with a reddened tip, lying like a wounded soldier. I, honestly, didn’t even notice it at first. It really didn’t look like a lot, but you could tell there was definitely a hue of pinkness. This couldn’t be happening again. It wasn’t even the fact that there happened to be some blood, because I obviously didn’t even notice the night before. It was just a mere principal thing. Most guys never have sex with a girl on their period, and here I am in the span of 2 months eating a girl out on her period and now this. Grave misfortune. After many minutes of giving me s**t, the berating ended and we continued on with our day.

A few nights later, a few of us decided to check out the hot scene at the local Uno’s Karaoke Night. Like I said before, we were looking to get wild this spring. Colleen and I had texted a little over the previous day or two, but nothing serious. As fate would have it, she happened to be at Uno’s as well. We exchanged smiles when I walked past and that was about it.

Oliver and my other buddy Dan decided they wanted to get in on the karaoke action, so they got up on stage and did a blazing rendition of Eagle Eye Cherry’s “Save Tonight”. I have to admit, it was pretty good. That was until they spotted Colleen about 5 feet in front of them and decided to change some lyrics. Let me tell you, it wasn’t like Weird Al Yankovic got a hold of the microphone and was funny with the new lyrics. No, no, no. Oliver decided to just stand there and yell, “Bloody condom!!” into the microphone about 5 times, while pointing and laughing at Colleen. I was awestruck. This was really happening right now. On second thought, it was kind of funny. She looked like she didn’t really know what was going on, and they were pretty drunk, so she shrugged it off. I ended up texting her later apologizing on their behalf, but she thought I was just apologizing for them being drunk. She still had no clue about the condom. A win/win for everyone!

About a week later, I sent her a late night text to come over and she didn’t hesitate at all. Apparently she was not fazed by my idiot friends. Always a plus. At this point in the school year, I had unofficially moved out of my double with Alek and into Jeremy’s single. He had gone to Vegas to train for the upcoming draft and basically just left all of his belongings in his room. He had a sweet bed, so I just slept there every night. It worked out for Alek as well, since we didn’t have to sleep in the same room anymore. I ended up banging a few girls in Jeremy’s bed (sorry J!). Anyways, Colleen came over and we fucked. It seemed entirely too easy. Maybe that was a sign that I was aiming a little low, or maybe I was just that good at sex. Either way, I was content. She was quite the giver in the oral capacity, so there were no complaints.

I don’t think I ever spoke to her again after that, and I just checked to see that she has defriended me on Facebook, so I’m thinking we ended on a sour note haha. Oh well. There are plenty of authentic hipsters out here in LA, so I’m sure I’ll catch another one soon.




























The One to Forget

Ooooo, yeah. There’s this one. I think everyone always knows who the worst person they slept with was. For me, I don’t know her name. I don’t know if I ever knew her name actually. Not that she didn’t tell me, but I think I was just way too fucked up, or I just wanted to block it out, so I didn’t have to look her up on Facebook the next day. For the purpose of this story, let’s refer to her as Charity (I don’t know why, but I feel like that name is fitting. Kind of like a charity case).

So I met Charity at the Queen’s Head Pub on campus during my senior spring. The Queen’s Head was underneath the freshman dining hall and was built during my sophomore year. It was actually a pretty cool little spot. It had all the feel of a college bar; darts, shuffleboard, live music, cheap drinks and food. The only problem was it was a far walk from all of the upperclassmen, so not that many people went there. I think I went there at night maybe twice: once to see Braddigan from Dispatch play a concert and once for this occasion.

It was $.25 wing night, so a few roommates and I decided to cause some damage. We only had intentions of crushing wings that night, but as we will soon find out, a little more was crushed. I’m talking about p***y, for those of you who don’t follow. We get to the pub, order our wings and try to find a table. While we’re looking, we bump into another of our friends, Cheng, who happens to already be sitting at a table with a few ladies. One of them was Charity. I looked at her, and then moved on to my wings, as they seemed more appetizing. She definitely was not pretty, was pretty short, might have had some t*****s under that shirt, but nothing to write home about surely. I wasn’t sure what Cheng’s intentions were, but I’m hoping it wasn’t to hook up with her, because that would have been a mistake. We talked for awhile, not really caring much about the conversation, but everyone seemed to be having a good time. I believe the talking points soon moved to sex, because that was when it hit me that this girl was definitely down to f**k.

Now, as I said, I don’t remember what we talked about, but I said something right, because as soon as everyone left the pub to go out for the night, she, Cheng and I got caught behind a little. We started walking through Harvard Yard and all of a sudden, she grabbed my c**k and said,

“I hope you’ve got a big dick, cuz I haven’t been satisfied by one in awhile.”

Wow. That might have been the most forward thing a girl has ever done to me. No intro to it, no beating around the bush, just seeing what you want and taking it. Okay, so apparently we were gonna f**k tonight. Works for me. Cheng noticed this as well, and willingly caught up with the rest of the crowd. A few minutes later, we all arrived at The Kong. The Kong was a Harvard Square favorite. It was a Chinese restaurant on the first floor, a bar on the second, and a dance club on the third. Everything anyone would ever want: Crab Rangoons, Scorpion Bowls, and hot, hot beats.

We ventured up to the second floor, and when we got there, Charity started talking to some locals that she clearly knew. This is always the tricky thing with non-college specific bars. Every campus has a few bars that only students go to. Since Harvard Square is so popular, there’s not really one bar (maybe Tommy’s) that only students, and not locals, go to. This guy that Charity was talking to was clearly a local. Fat white dude with a Celtics hat on. Boom. Dead giveaway. Obviously, I wasn’t intimidated, but it did show something about her. It seemed as if she was tired of Harvard guys and wanted something more adventurous. Bold move on Charity’s part. After spending some time at the Kong, we were getting restless. It seemed as if Alek was as well, since he started berating some girls and calling them fat. This did not please said females, as they told the bouncer and he was promptly removed from the premises. We took that as our cue to leave as well.

Charity lived in the Quad. If you remember from my first lesbian encounter, the Quad was always a hassle to get to. It sucked, not only because it was either a far walk or a crowded shuttle ride, but also because everyone in the Quad knew who lived in the Quad. If they saw someone they didn’t recognize on the shuttle at midnight, that person was clearly going to hook up with someone. Not that it’s a ride of shame, but if you see someone you don’t want to, it’s pretty obvious what you’re going there to do. As you can imagine, I saw someone that I didn’t want to see on that fateful shuttle ride.

Charity and I got on and found two seats. As soon as I sat down, I saw a girl I had hooked up with a few times over the Christmas break. Her name was Maren. Our situation was very strange. She was definitely a pretty girl. Tall and blonde. Didn’t take much effort to sleep with her. I feel like she should have been a keeper for me. What happened was we hooked up a few times and then I sprained my ankle in January and was restrained to crutches again. Obviously, a big time hit for my psyche. I think, at that point, I just said f**k it and stopped trying to hang out with her. Obviously nothing on her end, I just lost interest. Oh well. Another day, another dollar. One funny anecdote I will say, however, was the night I was eating her out and her roommate walked in. Oh man, that was a sight for sore eyes. She lived in the infamous “10-Man” in the Quad. This was one of the most sought after rooms in the Quad, as it was literally a 10 bedroom suite on the second floor of one of the dorms. As I mentioned, I was playing hide and seek with her c**t and her roommate barged in, God knows why (since she lived in a single). Then, the next morning, she came back in, apologized, and said she had a surprise for me. Maren and I got out of bed, walked across the living room and went into her bedroom. In there were two of my teammates. Apparently, all three of us had gone home with three different girls in the 10-man without even realizing it. And now back to the real story here.

So anyways, Charity and I are sitting on the shuttle, and Maren sits down across from us. We avoid eye contact at all costs, but she clearly knows what’s going on. In order to try and protect my innocence in this situation, I just stared down at my phone for the entire ride and didn’t say a word to Charity. Maybe I’m just taking a stroll to the Quad to check a book out of the library? Doubtful, but a valiant effort on my end. We successfully make it off the shuttle without too much awkwardness occurring, and walk to her room. Once there, she tells me that she wants to give me a strip show. Normally, I would be all for this, however, I wanted to get the lights off as soon as possible. This was to no avail, as she felt the need to do her best Jamie-Lie-Curtis-True-Lies-Striptease-Lookalike -Contest impression. Not the best I’ve seen, but can’t fault her for the effort. After she was satisfied with her performance, it was time to f**k. Things started out fairly normal. Then, she had an odd request. She said she wanted me to f**k her out of the window. Ummmmm, what? She lived in a room on the third floor that overlooked the grassy knoll of the Quad. It was a pretty nice view and apparently she wanted to be held out the window while I fucked her, so she could enjoy that view. It seemed a little dangerous, as I was still sufficiently intoxicated, but I said f**k it. So she hung outside of the window while I fucked her from behind for awhile. I didn’t want to go too hard, as I was afraid of rocketing her to a certain death, but I got into a groove for a while. After that portion of our night, I figured I’d try something that I always wanted to do, but never had the balls to do, since most girls I hook up with have more self-respect than it seemed Charity had (I say most there because I don’t want to sell anyone short).

I pulled her back inside and walked over to the wall. I leaned my back up against it and she began to give me head. At that point, as I was looking down, it felt like I was in a porno. So, I did what I had seen in quite a few pornos, and started smacking her face with my c**k. Pretty standard play I think. These were some nice connections too. No love taps; just straight up lashings. It must be the feeling of dominance that guys like about this move because it really makes no sense otherwise. Like why would you rather smack a girl in the cheek with your dick when she’s perfectly willing to put it in her mouth? Anyways, she didn’t seem to mind. Class at its finest right there. Finally, we moved back to the bed and I finished it up. Soon, a decision had to be made. Was I going to be staying the Quad for the night or trying to find my way back? The shuttle service had ended for the evening and I could either take a cab (something I was definitely not prone to do in my college days) or take the 30 minute walk back to my dorm. Ultimately, I decided that I would spend the night, get my sleep, and live to fight another day tomorrow.

I woke up in the morning around 7 to the sounds of Charity snoring. If I didn’t find her attractive beforehand, this didn’t do her any help. I looked over and she had her mouth halfway open and sounded like a pig. “Okay, that’s it. I’m out.” I slunk out of bed, put my clothes on and tried to make a sneaky escape. I tried opening the door, but it was stuck. I had to tug pretty hard and when I did it made a loud noise. I looked back and this had awoken the sleeping monster. I sprinted out of her room, down the hall, down the stairs, and out of the back entrance of the building, making sure I stayed away from her view of the field through her window.

A few weeks later, I saw her at a party at the Owl, but since I didn’t know her name (and didn’t want to talk to her), I completely avoided the situation. Job well done, I would say.

















































The Islander

I had completely forgotten about this story until about a month ago when my buddy Carter reminded me. I’m glad he did, because this one is funnier than it is weird/gross. But it still is gross.

Right after graduating from college, my two high school friends, Carter and Sam, and I decided to head over to the magical land of Nantucket for a weekend. Now Sam was actually from Nantucket. Yes, people actually live there. It’s not just an island that people go to in the summer. Sam moved to Duxbury his junior year of high school because his cousin, Carter, lived there and he wanted more exposure for basketball (weird how college coaches don’t recruit on the island, right?). Anyways, Carter’s mom was living on Nantucket so we had a place to crash. I soon learned, however, that it wasn’t just going to be us making the trip. Instead, about 10 of Carter’s friends from Penn State (insert Sandusky joke here) were also going to be joining us. I was up for rowdiness to ensue.

When I met them at the port, nothing special stood out. There were 5 guys and 5 girls. Nobody in particular caught my eye, so I figured it was just going to be a nice relaxing weekend on the island. We arrived to the harbor on Friday night and it was pouring rain. Like Perfect Storm style. We figured we’d call that night a wash (pun intended) and just hole up at the house, playing drinking games. So we did. I got to know everyone a little to the wee hours of the morning and then called it a night.

The next day, we took a tour of the island, went to the beaches, went out to lunch, etc. Carter’s mom and boyfriend wanted to cook dinner for everyone, so we went back to the house a little later in the day. Now, all of us weren’t actually staying in Carter’s mom’s house. We were staying next door at a house whose owners were actually gone for the week. Carter’s mom told us that we could stay there as long as we didn’t make a mess. Anyways, we got back to the house for dinner and all of a sudden I had to s**t. I felt it coming on big time. Like a monster one. Carter told me that the plumbing in his mom’s house was really bad, so I should go back to our place to take care of business. I ran across the yard and up the stairs to the lone bathroom of the house. When I arrived, there was a note above the toilet that said the toilet had weak pressure. Awesome. There also was no plunger in the bathroom, so even if I did decide to unload this behemoth, there was no way to force it down. Decision time. Do I risk clogging up this toilet and leaving all 10 people with no bathroom in the house for the rest of the weekend? Do I try to hold it and see if it passes? Or, do I take a dump somewhere else? I know my body, and there was no way this thing was going to pass. I also didn’t want to be “that guy” that clogged the only toilet in the house. So I moved to try and take care of this elsewhere. Looking back now, I probably could have just grabbed a plunger from Carter’s mom’s house if I did plug it up, but that’s beside the point.

I grabbed a handful of toilet paper, ran down the stairs to the back yard, and like a bad dog, I popped a squat on the lawn and let loose. Don’t worry, I was not in sight of anyone, as the back yard was surrounded by high grass, almost like the Serengeti. So there I was; squatting in a yard, shitting. I never thought I would see the day. When I was done, I turned around and, “Oh Lordy, I’m glad I didn’t try to fit that in the toilet.” I didn’t want to just leave it there, as the owners didn’t have a dog, so I decided to wrap the remaining toilet paper around my hands, grab the pile, and start flinging it into the Serengeti. Once again, looking back now, this probably wasn’t necessary, but I was semi-drunk at this point. Like a bad monkey, I was hucking poo. I would have loved to be a witness for that. When I was done, there was a nice little imprint on the lawn where my s**t had lay. Also, there were about 5 flies that had already started hovering above it. I walked back over for dinner, washed up, and joined my compadres.

At this point, you might start wondering what the f**k this has to do with any girl. Well relax. Here it comes. After dinner, we all decided that instead of driving into town and going to bars, we were just gonna hang at the house, drink, and play some games. So we got everything going and soon, it seemed that I had made a little friend. Her name was Steph. I have no idea how this came about. I barely remember what she looks like, I don’t know why she gained a liking towards me, or what we even talked about. But before long, she was grabbing my hand and asking me if I wanted to go outside. By this point of the evening, I was pretty blasted and really had nothing better to do, so I followed. We walked out into the back yard and started making out. Then she got down on her knees, unzipped my pants and started sucking me off. When she pulled my dick out, she actually held it up next to her forearm to measure it. That was nice of her. Anyways, after a little, it dawned on me that I was standing right next to the spot where I had defecated a few hours earlier. Like, right next to it. Like a foot away. She was sitting on the grass and I was still standing, but then some people came outside and I had to hide. I got down on my knees and ducked behind the bush that was next to me. She didn’t want to stop, so she was trying to force me to lie down next to her. Absolutely not! So I just got down on one knee, like I was listening to my coach during peewee football practice and she got down on the ground instead. God I hope she didn’t lie down in my s**t residue. That would be a bad look. Anyways, she finished me off and then asked if I was going to do the same for her. Given my track record, most of you would probably assume that I obliged to her request. Wrong. I was done with this situation, so I kindly declined and we went back inside.

When we got there, nobody seemed to realize we had left. I had no idea what time it was, but I was very tired. So, I passed out on the ground next to the sofa. The next day, Steph and I didn’t really talk and that was last I ever saw of her. I know, I know, not the best story in this book, but I told Carter I would include it. You’re welcome, Carter!








































Sugar Momma

Here’s a nice little quick-hitter for y’all. This story took place during one of my many breaks with Angel out in LA, and it really introduced me to what life in LA could be.

It was during the winter of 2011. A few friends and I were down in Hermosa Beach staying at my buddy Mario’s place for the weekend. For those of you who don’t know, Hermosa Beach is a small community just south of Venice/Santa Monica on the coast. Basically, everyone who graduates from USC/UCLA/LMU moves to there, meaning the entire town is just a continuation of college. It’s the definition of a college town, minus the college. Many refer to it a “Bromosa”, which I would say is a fair assessment.

So anyways, as I mentioned before, Angel and I were on a break, so I figured I’d let loose with my boys for the weekend. Now when I say let loose, that usually just entails me getting really fucked up and then passing out at a friend’s house. As we have seen before, I’m not typically out on the prowl for girls. I didn’t have any different expectations for this evening, so you can imagine how surprised I was by the outcome.

I was already pretty drunk by the time we made it out to the bars, and for some reason, I remember getting into the bar about 5 minutes after everyone else. I don’t remember what I was doing outside, but I do remember that by the time I got inside, my friend Geoff was already chumming it up with two women. I use the term women here because these were not fresh-out-of-college girls. Oh no my friends, they were certified women. Pretty attractive women at that. Probably in their mid-30’s. So, I moseyed on up to them and joined into the conversation. There was a blonde and a brunette. Geoff looked like he was already laying claim to the brunette, so I talked to the blonde. Her name was Karen and she was wearing some sort of full tracksuit. It looked like she had just gotten done with practice and put her warm-ups back on. Also, her foot was in an air cast, as she had sprained her ankle. Great combination of style there.

Side note: The one thing I never like to do when I meet new girls is tell them I played basketball at Harvard. It just seems like a very strong oh-look-at-me pickup line. Also, since I always hung around guys who did the same thing as me in college, it usually didn’t differentiate me from the next person. However, my friends out in LA love to lead with this whenever we meet new people. It usually happens within 10 seconds of meeting someone.

“Hi my name’s Geoff. This is my friend Pat. He played basketball at Harvard.”

Then, I’m left there standing and nodding as the girls look at me and do one of two things: a.) gush with excitement and get excited to talk to me, or b.) look me up and down and say “Oh, cool”. I really don’t know how to respond to that intro. Like, “Yes, that is a correct statement. I did partake in basketball and basketball related activities at that institution of higher learning.” Is that an appropriate response? I don’t know. Anyways, I’m certain that’s what happened on this encounter and I must have gotten the first response from the ladies because we began talking and having a good time. Honestly, at this point I was pretty hammered, so I don’t remember exactly what we talked about. I do remember there was a live band playing and we might have danced for a little. Before too long, though, Geoff, the two women and I were in a cab to another bar.

Like a true sugar momma, Karen paid for the cab and then bought me drinks at the next bar. It felt nice to be pampered and not have to try and impress someone. I can now see why younger men would want to date older women. They’re on the prowl trolling for some young dick and are willing to pay for it (not in a gigolo type of way, but you know what I mean). We only spent a short while at the next bar before Karen invited me back to her place in Redondo Beach. Geoff was getting the same vibes from his lady, so the 4 of us once again got into a cab and headed down south.

As soon as we arrived outside of Karen’s apartment, Geoff’s lady told him that she had to wake up early in the morning and go to a trunk show for work, so she thought it would be best if he didn’t come over. Ouch. As you can assume, he wasn’t too happy with this news. Reluctantly, he got back into the cab and took it back up to Hermosa, to spend the night at Mario’s place. Meanwhile, the three of us walked up to Karen’s apartment and cracked a bottle of champagne.

As soon as I stepped foot into her place, I knew I was in for quite the treat. This place was ridiculous. She had an entire floor of the apartment complex to herself, a waterfall in her living room, and a wall of windows that overlooked the PCH and the ocean. No signs of any husband or kids, so I wasn’t going to have to jump out of a window in the morning and get chased with a golf club. That’s always a plus. After we all had a glass of champagne, the other woman left and it was time for Karen and I to get started.

We went into her bedroom, which matched the radiance of the rest of her apartment. She unzipped her 1980’s Carl Lewis track jacket and it was at that moment I realized she had fake tits. They were undetectable beforehand, because of the loose-fitting attire, but they were no longer imperceptible. These things were huge. I had never been with anyone with fake tits before, so I was like a kid in a candy shop. I’ve gotta say though, I wasn’t a huge fan. Maybe these were just a bad pair, but they were way too hard. I’m pretty sure they aren’t all like that (from the myriad of movies I have seen online), so I might have recommended her getting a refund from her surgeon. Also, her n*****s were super sensitive, so anytime I tried to nibble she told me to stop. No fun. Next, she told me I was in for a treat because she had just gotten waxed. Fantastic. An older women who still takes care of herself. However, I think her definition of waxed was a little different than mine. She took off her panties and there was quite a bit of hair, albeit neatly organized in a triangle above her vagina. Still, I feel like when a girl tells you she just got a wax, you’re expecting it to be bare. Oh well. Shapes are fun too.

So, we started going at it. First thing she wanted to do was bring me over to her makeup table and have me f**k her from behind while looking in the mirror. Interesting first move, Karen. This makeup station looked like it was from the backstage of a burlesque show. There were lights up and down the mirror with powders and brushes and all the other accoutrement girls use to make themselves look pretty. I had her bent over the chair and we were both looking in the mirror to stage right. Okay, not bad, not bad. Then, we moved it back over to the bed, but I had to carry her, since her ankle was acting up. She laid down on her back and I assumed my position. This is when things started to get annoying. Every time I thrusted, she let out a cry of harm, as if I was hurting her. She told me I had to be softer and go slower. Normally, I wouldn’t have been to mad about this, since I can do slow and romantical too, but this lady is clearly a cougar looking to get plowed by a younger guy. At that point, she kind of loses control over how she’s gonna get fucked. If you’re a 30-something woman going out to bars to find guys fresh out of college to f**k, you can’t expect that the guy wants to “make love” to you. He’s gonna want to go all out, and that’s what I wanted to do. But every time I tried to rev it up a little more, she kept on pulling back and told me to be gentler. This went on for some time, and then I couldn’t take it anymore. That’s when I decided to fake it. Yup, just like with 8th grade girl, I put on my acting shoes and let it out. We called it a night and I went to bed.

In the morning, I woke up, assessed the situation and decided that I should go for it one more time, seeing as I didn’t know when the next time I was gonna get couged was going to be. I figured I’d like to start with a little good morning BJ, so I tried to get her down there, but she was not having it. Maybe that’s an older woman thing. I guess I’ll find out when I’m married. So when that didn’t work out, I figured I should just crack it out real quick and be on my way.

I didn’t have to fake it this time, as my dick was a little more sensitive than the night before. Afterwards, I called Geoff to come pick me up. I was a little slow in getting dressed and Geoff ended up honking at me from the PCH for about 10 minutes as Karen and I exchanged numbers and kissed goodbye. As a thank you to him, I bought him pancakes on the way home. You’re welcome, Geoff.

Karen and I texted later that day, something about the Celtics/Lakers game, and that was it. No follow up texts, and no late night texts the next weekend. Maybe older women don’t do booty calls like that, or maybe she just went back to the same bar and found her next victim. Either way, I never talked to her again.





























































Summer Lovin’

“Summer lovin’, had me a blast. Summer lovin’, happened so fast.” Ah yes. Those glorious days of summer. Time to forget your worries, go to the beach and have relationships with girls that you both know won’t last. Well, I met the next little diddy during the summer of 2012, right after Angel and I had broken up for the final time (I feel like I say that a lot, but this was the real last time).

A few of my coworkers and I played in a touch football league in Venice every Saturday during the summer and there was a requirement to have at least 3 girls on the team. Two of them were other coworkers, but we still needed one more. A guy who used to work with us was on the team and he told us his sister-in-law was going to be living with him and his wife for the summer, so he would ask her to play. When he, Rene, told us that she was in, my buddy Ross and I decided to do some investigative Facebook stalking. And wow, were we in for a surprise.

I first met Lia that following Saturday at the field. To say she was pretty would be the understatement of the year. This girl was gorgeous. Bleach blonde hair, sweet a*s, pretty eyes. I was taken aback. Obviously, knowing me, I was pretty shy at first. The team went out to a bar after the game and I talked to her a little. Seeing as Rene and his wife were in their 30’s, I was expecting Lia to be the same, so I didn’t think I had a chance. Then, she told me that she was going to be a 5th year senior at Michigan State in the fall. That’s when I realized that I should pursue this a little further. She said that she was out here for the summer for an internship, and also because her sister was pregnant with twins and wanted to be there to help her out. She also mentioned that her mom was here for the whole summer helping her sister out as well. So let’s see. That means Lia, her sister, her mom and Rene were all living in one apartment for the summer. Hooking up with her might be a little tougher than I first suspected. Oh well. I like a challenge.

During the middle of the next week, I had Ross text Rene and tell him that I was interested in Lia and he should put in the good word for me. He obliged. Okay, now the wheels were in motion. The next Saturday, we had another game and then I invited people over my place for drinks. Only a few people came, but Lia was one of them. That Saturday night also happened to be the night of the Venice Carnival. It was a pretty stereotypical event: rigged games, carniefolk, a few flipping rides and a Ferris wheel. I thought it would be fun, so I invited Lia to accompany my friends Geoff and Erin.

When we got there, the other 3 wanted to do one of those rides where you’re basically trapped in a little cage doing 360’s, while the whole contraption spins simultaneously. I hate going upside-down, so I was not thrilled with the idea. But, each cage sat two people, so I figured that would be my chance to get in with Lia. The ride started and I was instantly terrified. Part of this had to do with the fact that I didn’t fit in the cage. I had to put my legs and feet sideways and the door was basically pressed against my forehead. We started doing flips and Lia and I started screaming. She sounded legitimately like she was going to die. So what did I do? I held her hand. Big time play there, Mr. Magnarelli! We got off the ride, enjoyed the rest that hell-hole of a carnival had to offer and then called it a night. I walked her home, as her sister’s apartment was actually right down the street from mine, and the baseline was set.

The next day, she said she wanted to go to the beach, so I met her outside. We spent the whole day together and then went back to the carnival again at night. This time, we rode the Ferris wheel, which overlooked the beach. Very romantic. It was getting a little chilly up top, so I put my arm around her to keep her warm. I was just killing this middle school game-spitting. After that, we went back to my place. Once there, we started making out on my couch and then she asked if we could go into my room. “That works for me!” We got into my bed and things started getting a little more physical. She didn’t hesitate to start blowing me, which was nice to see. I reciprocated and then it was time to see if she wanted to go a little farther. At first, she said she wasn’t sure if she wanted to. I said that was fine and we didn’t have to do anything too quickly. I guess that made her want to more, because we instantly started f*****g (funny how that line works). When I was about to come, she told me to go on her, but not on her face. Classy lady. After that, I walked her home again, hand-in-hand, stopping every 50 yards or so to make out. At this point, I figured this was going to turn into a regular occurrence for the rest of the summer. However, I didn’t realize how regular it was going to be. I soon found out.

Starting with the day at the carnival, Lia and I hung out for 12 consecutive nights after work. We talked all day, she would come over at night, we would hook up, and then I would walk her home. The walking her home part got pretty annoying, because she had to be back at a reasonable hour, since she was living with her mom and Rene, who was acting as her father for the summer. She was never allowed to spend the night, even on the weekends, so that part sucked. But, I was really starting to like her. I looked forward to seeing her every night, not just for the sex, but because I genuinely enjoyed spending time with her. One night, she ended up giving me a hickey, which I was unaware of. The next day at work, I told Angel that she had left a few things at my place and she should come by to pick them up. At this point, we were still very friendly. We had actually fucked about a week and a half before that for the last time. She came over, I made some dinner and we talked for about an hour. Then, she got up in a hurry grabbed her stuff and said she was leaving, just like that. It seemed kind of strange so I asked if I had said something wrong. She then slapped me in the neck with two fingers and said next time, I should wear a higher collar. Mmmmm burn! She ran out in a flurry. I texted her to apologize (I don’t really know what for, since we were broken up) and she started giving me s**t about how I had moved on so quickly. After a night of long, arduous texting, she came into work the next day and wrote me an apology email saying she was out of line and she shouldn’t concern herself in matters like that and she wanted to remain friends. I thought that was fair, since I did want to remain friends with her and have her be a part of my life. Well, that next day was actually her last at the company and was the last time I saw her. I texted her a few times to see how she was doing and how her new job was, but she completely froze me out. Oh well.

Okay, so back to Lia. So we were having sex every night and enjoying the summer. During one of our romping escapades, I was f*****g her from behind and she turned her head and said something kind of laughingly.

“What’s your feeling on the butt?”

“Huh?”

She kept on giggling and tried to get it out, but couldn’t. I asked her what she had said and she finally admitted to asking what my thoughts were on butt play.

“Like f*****g you in the a*s?”

“No no no. Like a finger.”

This could be interesting. I had never really experimented with that before, but if she was asking for it then I guess I could get down with it. So, I went for it, full steam ahead. Plop. Right in the butt with my pointer finger. It seemed to get her aroused even more, so that was nice to see. She also really liked getting choked, so that was another twist on our sexcapades. Needless to say, the sex was great.

After things were getting a little more serious between us, she thought it was necessary to tell me about her last relationship. She explained how she had been dating a guy for 3 years and she had just broken up with him right before coming out to California. Ahhh, this all makes sense now. She was using me as a rebound for the summer, which I was fine with. Well that was cool. I felt like there were no strings attached here. I told myself not to get too involved emotionally, since she would be heading back to Michigan when the summer ended, and clearly didn’t want any sort of relationship after just getting out of one. I told her about Nicole (See “The Inspiration for this Book”) and how I wasn’t a fan of trying to do long-distance relationships either, so we were on the same page there. However, things continued to get more and more serious as we hung out every night, and we started telling each other how we felt. It got to the point where Lia was telling me she didn’t want to go back to school and wanted to just stay here with me. This was not good, because I was feeling the same way. I tried to sit down with her and have a conversation about exactly what we wanted to do, but she got too upset and didn’t want to talk about it, so we never did.

Then, it came time for her to leave. That sucked. The girl I had spent basically every day of the summer with was now leaving. It felt like Camp Winaukee all over again. She said that she would be back in November, when the babies were born for about a week, so we could see each other then. That didn’t seem like enough though.

By the time she was back at school for only about a week, we started talking about me coming out to visit. We still talked every day and it honestly felt like a girlfriend/boyfriend relationship. She was super excited when I told her I wanted to see her and I booked a flight for the 3rd weekend of September. It was quite the little trip for me: Wednesday through Monday. She was all giddy and sent me an itinerary of everything that we were going to do. On there, there was a lot of family time: lunch with the grandparents, dinner with mom, lunch with dad. Now this seemed very relationship-like. It looked as though after this weekend, barring anything major going wrong, we would officially be together. Foreshadowing anyone?

So about a week and a half before my visit, Lia told me that her period would be going on for the first day or two of my visit. Hmmm, I felt like when I asked her if that was a good weekend for me to come, that should have been on her mind. Oh well. I could go the first two days without sex. She said that she would try to mess around with her pills to just skip it altogether, but wasn’t sure if it was going to work. Whatever. As the trip got closer, things started getting a little weird. She stopped responding to texts as frequently. Some days, I would wake up to a text from her telling me to wake up because she was bored. Now, I was lucky to get a response out of her with 20 minutes. She eventually texted me saying that she was really busy with work (she was a bartender on campus) and school and she felt like I was being too needy. I tried to tell her that I didn’t really feel like I was and I guess I would just let her text me when she had time. So that put a little damper on things a few days before I was coming out. She also told me that she had a few tests to study for over the weekend, classes to go to, and papers to write while I was there, so I would probably have to entertain myself for awhile. That seemed okay, as long as it wasn’t too much time by myself.

I arrived in Detroit on Wednesday night and had the whole greeting planned out. It was going to be like from a movie. She would be waiting for me at baggage claim, I would run up to her, pick her up, and we would make out. Well I called her when I landed and she said she was driving around the terminal and I should meet her outside. I got there, and she was sitting in her car. I opened up the passenger seat and threw my stuff in the back.

“Okay, I guess I’ll come out to hug you.”

She walked around the car, gave me a hug, and I tried to kiss her. It was a quick little peck and then she said we should get going. Not a good start. We made the hour drive back to East Lansing and decided to call it a night, instead of going out. We got into bed and she told me that her period had actually started the previous day, so it was probably going to be around a little longer than expected. Bummer. Okay, well we can still sort of be physical right (i.e. give me some loving). Well, that didn’t happen. We got into bed, kissed a little, and then went to sleep.

The next morning, she had class for a few hours and then we were going to go to her grandparent’s house for lunch. We made the drive out and met her mom there. It was pretty nice. She showed me around her home town, had some delicious eats, and went to an apple orchard. I figured we were going to head back to campus after that, but we went to her mom’s house instead. Then, she told her mom that we would have dinner with her. So, we went out to dinner. At this point, I was on a family overload. Lia and I had barely gotten any alone time. We weren’t being affectionate at all. It almost seemed like I was just some pen pal who was visiting for the weekend. We finally made it back to her house around 9 and we were going to go out. She said she wanted to relax and watch a movie before we went out around 11, so we got into her bed and threw on a flick. About 20 minutes into it, she passed out. She woke up at the end and asked if we could just watch another one and not go out, because she was tired. I said yes and we watched another movie. When that finished, we went to bed. No kissing, no touching. Just went to sleep. At this point, I was getting pretty frustrated. What exactly was going on here? We couldn’t keep our hands off each other all summer, and now it seemed like a chore to even hold her hand.

The next morning (Friday), she had class for 3 hours. When she came back around noon, she said that she was going to have to go to a meeting in about 45 minutes, and then afterwards, she told her mom that we would meet up with her, her aunt and cousin to go shopping. I was in a s****y mood, so I kinda just ignored her. She took that the wrong way. She yelled at me for not entertaining myself because she had told me that she was going to be busy. I told her that that wasn’t what I was mad about and when I tried to explain she stormed out and said she was going to be late for her meeting and that we could talk about it later. This was getting pretty ridiculous. I think we had spent more time with her family than we had spent alone up to this point.

She got back from her meeting and I explained why I was upset. It didn’t seem like she wanted me there, she wasn’t showing affection, etc. She said that that wasn’t really her (alluding to the showing affection part).

“What do you mean? We were basically arm-in-arm all summer.”

“Well, I don’t really like PDA and being touched.”

“I’m not talking about PDA. We’ve barely even kissed when we’re alone. I don’t need PDA, I’m just asking for some sort of loving here.”

At this point, we were driving to meet up with her family and she said she didn’t want to talk about it anymore because she didn’t want to be upset when we met up with them. We would talk about it later. Well of course, after we went shopping with her family, we went out for drinks with them, and then went to dinner with her cousin and her roommate. We got back from that and it was time to start drinking and go out, so we didn’t finish up our conversation from earlier. Friday night was going to be our only time to go out, since she had to bartend on Saturday night and had a test to study for on Sunday night. I figured we would get a few drinks in our system, loosen up and have a good time. That did not happen.

We decided to go out at the bar she worked at, since we would be able to get free drinks and her roommates were bartending that night. We were there for about 20 minutes before it started to become apparent that she was more interested in talking to other people than me. Her roommate talked to me, as if to distract me, as Lia ran around the bar giving big hugs to all her guy friends. PDA my a*s. Eventually, I did get some time with her. However, she quickly wanted to go to the other side of the bar, so we walked through a sea of people. She was in front of me, so in order to prevent myself from losing her, I put my hand on her lower back for her to guide me. She didn’t like this. When we emerged on the other side of the sea, she turned around and exclaimed,

“That what I’m talking about! Don’t do that!”

I looked at her in awe.

“Don’t do what?!”

“Don’t touch me like that!”

I honestly thought she was kidding. She couldn’t seriously be talking about me putting my hand on her lower back. I was simply amazed. I told her that I had to watch her all night, running around jumping into guys’ arms but I wasn’t allowed to touch her?

“That’s different. Those guys are my friends.”

“And I’m not!?”

“That’s different.”

That was the point of the weekend when I just said f**k it. Obviously something weird was going on here that I was unaware of and she was having issues of her own. We stayed at the bar for a little longer and then made it back to her house with a few of her roommates. She smoked some weed and then passed out. I went upstairs and slept.

In the morning, she started poking me and tried to be playful. I wasn’t having any of it.

“Okay, what happened last night? What did I do?”

“Seriously?! You don’t remember?”

“No. I was really drunk.”

I told her how she had acted and what was said and she apologized. I told her not to worry about it, since I didn’t really care anymore. We were going to be going to the MSU football game in a few hours, so I figured I would just focus my attention on having fun there. Well, they were playing Eastern Michigan, so nobody really cared about the game. The tailgate was lame. She walked around talking to all her friends, not even introducing me to them, as I just followed her around like a little puppy dog. Once inside the stadium, it started raining. She started complaining about how she wanted to leave. I told her there was no way I was leaving before halftime. When halftime came around, we promptly left and went back to her house. I fell asleep on the couch and by the time I woke up, she had already left for work. She sent me a text saying her roommate would go out with me if I wanted to. I decided to just go back to sleep.

When she finally got back from work, around 2:30 am, we went to sleep. Once again, no touching, no kissing, just sleeping. The next morning (Sunday), we went to her gay friend’s family’s house for brunch (yippee!). After that, we went to her dad’s house to have dinner with her other side of her family. I didn’t say much the whole time, as I had given up. On the drive back to campus, she finally said,

“So should we talk now?”

“Yes, I believe now would be a good time to do that.”

Finally. For f**k’s sake. She told me to go first. This girl was quite the p***y. I thought I was bad with expressing my feelings, but she was ten times worse. I told her, once again, that I felt like she didn’t want me there, things were obviously a lot different than they were this summer, and I thought after this weekend we would be at another place in our relationship, which we clearly weren’t. She explained that she had hoped the same thing, that’s why she wanted me to visit and wanted to do all the family stuff, but right when she saw me at the airport, it hit her that this was getting a little more serious. She said she freaked out when it dawned on her what was going to happen this weekend and she instead decided to just push me away. That was nice of her. I told her that this is what happens when you don’t talk things out and she apologized. She said she really did like me and care about me, but it was just too much too soon. If the circumstances were different (i.e. she wasn’t back at school), things could probably work out. So that was that, I guess.

We got back to her house, I watched football and she studied for her test. I was leaving the next day and I just wanted to get through the rest of the night. I had actually looked at changing my flight the day before, so I could just leave on Sunday, but it was way too expensive. Monday morning, she had class again, so I just sat at her house doing nothing all morning. When she got back, we had about an hour to kill before I was going to hop on the bus to the airport. She jumped on top of me in her bed and gave me a look. We kissed a little bit and then it looked like she wanted to say something, but couldn’t get it out. I asked her what was going on and she just buried her head in my chest giggling. I knew what she was going to say, but I wanted her to say it.

Me: “What’s your question?”

Lia: “You know what I’m going to ask.”

Me: “No I don’t. Just say it.”

Lia: “I really want to have sex with you right now. Is that bad?”

I figured this would come about at some point. Her period couldn’t be 7 days long, so I had thought about what I was going to do if she wanted to have sex. On the one hand, she was a total b***h to me and basically brought me out here to tell me she didn’t want to be with me, so why would I give her the honor of accepting my dick. On the other hand, she was really hot and this was probably going to be the last time I see her, so what did I have to lose. As you probably expected, I told her we could have sex. She ran into the bathroom, made sure she was all good down there, and then came back to the bedroom with no pants on. We got right into. No foreplay, just straight f*****g. I had to take it a little easy, since I hadn’t busted a nut in 6 days, and I wanted to make sure I lasted long enough for this to be worth it. For the final time having sex with her, I would give it a 6. Nothing too great. After we finished, we jumped in the shower to wash off. I thought maybe we would go at it a little more in there, but we did not. When we got dressed, I asked if I would see her again. She said she definitely wanted to hang out with me when she came back to LA to visit the babies. She also wanted to stay in touch with me and talk because she cared about me. I told her she really couldn’t have it both ways. She can’t tell me she doesn’t want to be with me and then also expect me to want to talk to her every day. She understood. She walked me to the bus stop and it was pretty sad. We kissed goodbye and I left. When I was about to get on the plane, she texted me saying she missed me already. I felt like that really wasn’t fair. I told her missed her too and would talk to her soon.

For the next few days, we texted all day and talked on the phone a few times, as if nothing had changed. Then, we started going days on end without talking. I tried not to initiate the conversation, as she had basically took a dump on my head, and I would’ve been an idiot to still want to talk to her. She told me that she was probably not going to be coming out to LA in November because the babies were going to come to Michigan for Thanksgiving and it didn’t make sense for her to come out here. When she said that, I took it as me not seeing her again.

After radio silence for a few days, she would text me something completely random, like a picture of a tree outside of her apartment and say “Look, the leaves are changing colors!” I would say cool, and then we would go back to not talking. She would send me a pic from an MSU game and then nothing else. It was getting very frustrating. I decided that I was just going to tell her that I couldn’t do this and we needed to stop talking, so I texted her to see if she had time to talk. She said no, and didn’t say anything else. No “Not right now, but maybe in an hour”, just nothing. Two days later, she said she was sorry she was busy the other day, but could talk later that night. I called her that night to tell her off, but before I could get into it, she said she had told a friend that she would hang out with her so she had to go. Pretty typical.

Three weeks passed. Nothing. I changed her contact info in my phone to “Don’t Respond” (yeah, like I would abide by that). Then, one night, I got a text from “Don’t Respond”.

“Heyy, how are you?”

I didn’t respond. I didn’t even want to start to get into this again. About an hour later, I got another one.

“Just wanted to let you know that I booked my trip to LA. I’ll be back for three weeks over Christmas.”

Fuuuuuuuuuuck. That was a long time for her to be living down the street from me.

“Wow, that’s quite the trip.”

“Yeah, I want to spend as much time as possible with the boys.”

“Makes sense. Well I should be around.”

“I’d love to catch up!”

I didn’t respond to that. I wanted to stay as uninvolved as possible. I was actually pretty proud of myself. Now, looking ahead to the future, I’m probably going to be seeing her a few times over Christmas. And we’re probably going to have sex a few times. And thinking about this both excites me and pisses me off. On the one hand, it’ll be nice to see her again, given the way I felt about her. But on the other, what’s going to be the point of this. She’s going to go back to school afterwards, and the same s**t is going to happen again. Now, if she tells me then that she is thinking about moving to LA after graduation, we’ve got another situation on our hands. But until that point comes, I’ll be waiting in vain.

Update on the Inspiration for this Book

As I mentioned at the end of the chapter on Nicole, she had contacted me via Facebook asking how I was doing etc. At the time (December 2011), Angel and I were broken up and Nicole said she was breaking up with her boyfriend, Andy. A few messages were exchanged, but nothing too serious was talked about. Even though she said she had broken up with her boyfriend, she didn’t actually. I checked back in on her profile about a month later and she was still together with him. Angel and I got back together in February, so I didn’t have any reason to talk to her.

In March, I hit the road for my job. I had a pretty sweet deal actually. I recruited for a summer internship program, so I spent about 6 weeks in the spring traveling around the country and talking to college kids. I had just finished up at Dartmouth and was driving back down to Boston to go to Harvard the next day, when I got a phone call from a random number. I looked at my screen and it said the call was coming from Farmington, MO. You’ve gotta be f*****g kidding me. I ignored it, and then texted her about 10 minutes later.

“Nicole?”

“Yeah…”

“What’s going on?”

“Well, a coworker of mine said she has a nephew that just graduated from Harvard and it reminded me of you, so I thought I would call. I really miss you and I can’t stop thinking about you.”

So this is happening, I guess. I really just didn’t understand what was happening. How could she still be thinking about me? She’s been dating some guy for almost 3 years, and she still can’t get over the guy she cheated on before that? I must be a real catch (HA!). When I got back to Boston, she wanted to talk on the phone. She said her boyfriend was at the St. Louis Blues game and would be home soon, so she could only talk for a little. I told her I didn’t think it was a good idea. But then I caved.

It was very strange to hear her voice after all those years. We talked about work, and Angel, and California. Then, she opened up a little more and said how stupid she was for cheating on me. She blamed it on her being young and dumb and it was the biggest mistake of her life. I sort of just sat there listening, not saying a whole lot. I actually told her that one way that I had coped with everything was by writing a book and getting all my thoughts and frustrations on paper. Funny how that works out. After we hung up, I texted her saying that it was nice talking to her, but it was probably for the best if we didn’t speak like that again. It just didn’t make sense. She was dating Andy. I was with Angel. She was in St. Louis. I was in LA. I deleted her number from my phone and I thought that was it. Obviously, knowing me, that was not it.

Over the next few days, she would text me and I would hardly respond, and then promptly delete her number from my phone. Eventually, she realized that I didn’t want to talk and she stopped. Then, I did one of the craziest things of my life.

A few weeks ago (today it is October 31st, 2012, Happy Halloween!), I was on Facebook. It was a Thursday night. I had been drinking a little. I really want to set the scene here, if you couldn’t tell. Nicole showed up on my newsfeed and she said that she had just gotten back from the doctor’s and apparently she had a herniated disc in her neck and might need to get surgery. Since I had a slipped disc in my back in college, I sort of felt sympathy for her. I decided that I would reach out to see how serious it was. I didn’t have her number, but apparently I was connected with her on LinkedIn (don’t remember when that happened). I went on and her number was posted there. I texted her asking how she was doing. After we discussed her situation for a little, she asked how things were going with me. I told her that I had just gotten back from visiting Lia (See “Summer Lovin’”) for the weekend and it went horribly wrong. She felt bad for me and said that I deserved better. That was it for the night. I went out and got stupid drunk with my friends.

In the morning, I woke up to this text from Nicole:

“If I lived by myself, would you come visit me?”

When I say I got stupid drunk the night before, I mean it. My buddy Jay had two friends in town who were party girls. I ended up staying up with them and taking shot after shot after shot until eventually, I passed out on Jay’s couch. When I woke up, I was still pretty hammered. Love that feeling. So when I saw that text, I responded with “haha yes I would”. That’s when things spiraled out of control. Nicole took this as her chance to strike so she wrote,

Nicole: “I miss you. I really loved you. So much. I was such an idiot.”

Me: “Yes, you were. Well you obviously know how I felt about you.”

Nicole: “Yes I do. Ugh.”

Me: “Well, this is quite the predicament we got here then. I honestly would come visit you.”

Nicole: “I’ve been in quite the predicament for a while now. Ha”

Me: “I feel like I should just come see you.”

Nicole: “Well, he will be out of town tonight through tomorrow night. Maybe even until Sunday. He’s leaving here to go to KC in an hour.”

At this point, most of you are probably saying, “Nooooooo. Pat, you’re an idiot!” And you would be correct. Yes, I am an idiot. I am thinking most of this had to do with the fact that I was still a little drunk, but it also had to do with the fact that I was super bored at work. With the summer over, I really didn’t have anything to do. Actually, I wrote most of this book at work during this time. It was a Friday. I had nothing better to do. So, I started looking at flights. They were $900. She told me that she would be willing to split the cost with me if I came that night.

Nicole: “I can just picture us being together again. I can feel your body on mine and I’m going to lose it if I don’t get to touch you tonight.”

And that’s when I did the craziest thing I’ve ever done. I went ahead and bought a flight for $900 that was leaving in 3 hours. By this time, I was sober, so I’m not blaming my decision on alcohol, but it definitely had an impact earlier in the morning when I started talking to her. She was ecstatic and said she was going to get us a hotel for the weekend (apparently she didn’t want to f**k in her and Andy’s bed?). I left work after lunch and got my things together. As I was doing so, she texted me saying she didn’t have sex very often, so I was going to have to bear with her the first few times. I guess that’s what happens when you date someone for three years. Totally lame.

On the plane, I was getting a very nervous feeling in my stomach. There I was, flying to St. Louis to see the girl who had ripped my heart out of my chest 4 years earlier. And I had just spontaneously bought a flight to let that happen. What was wrong with me? Maybe it had something to do with how things went with Lia, or maybe I was still secretly in love with Nicole. I don’t know. But this was really happening. I landed and headed down to baggage claim. Part of me was scared that Nicole would look a lot different. Maybe she had put on some weight that I was unaware of, or maybe she just lost that something that attracted me to her in the first place. Neither of those was true. I saw her and she looked just like she had 4 years prior. We hugged and kissed and couldn’t believe that this was real. On the ride to the hotel, we caught up and reminisced about the old days. She told me about how unhappy she was with her current relationship (um, yeah I would say so if you’re flying me in to f**k you for the weekend), and how much she missed me and how she wasn’t going to let me go all weekend.

We got to the hotel and instantly jumped into bed. Her body was just as ridiculous. 34DD’s, tight stomach and fat a*s. Not much more you can ask for. Just a body that was built to f**k, yet she hadn’t done so in awhile (at least that’s what she claimed). When we did start f*****g, it became clear that she was not lying, as I could barely fit inside of her. We worked through it though. Back at Camp Winaukee, she said she could only get off if she was on top. So, I let her take her position and she hopped on. After a few minutes, it was like a hose was spraying me. She was dripping everywhere and both of our thighs were covered. I guess I was doing something right. After the second session, it was time for bed. She said that she would leave me be for the night and was going to go home and then pick me up in the morning. I thought that was a little strange that she didn’t want to sleep with me, seeing as I just flew halfway across the country to see her, but whatever.

In the morning, she arrived, hopped back into bed, and we fucked again. What a nice way to wake up. Then, we set out for a day of tourism. We explored the city, one of which I had never been to. We went up into the Arch, saw the Cardinals stadium, and actually went to an Oktoberfest festival. It was a very nice day. It was as if we were a couple again. We walked hand-in-hand through the city and kissed every so often. Even though this was all fake-life, it was nice to have that person again (someone I had not had in a long time). We went out to lunch and that’s when she really opened up to me.

“I have been in love with you for the last 4 years. Cheating on you was the dumbest thing I have ever done and I regret it every day. I just think back to what could have been and how young and stupid I was. I want to fly to Boston and apologize to your mom in person and tell her that I will never hurt you again.”

This was some pretty heavy stuff and I wasn’t looking to reciprocate, so I just sat there and took it and kept letting her talk. Once it got to the point where it was getting pretty repetitive, I just told her that obviously this is a lot to take in and I don’t want to say anything right now until I’ve had time to think about it. She was still in STL, and I was in LA. There was no way I was just going to jump into another long distance relationship (especially with her). She understood. We finished up lunch and headed back to the hotel for the afternoon. At this point, I really started trying to figure out what the hell it was I was doing there. I couldn’t have just wanted to fly to STL for sex, right? There had to have been some part of me that still wanted to be with Nicole. I wasn’t going to just tell her that at that moment, since I didn’t want to say anything I would regret though. So I just put it in the back of my mind and figured I would think about it more when I got back to LA.

We took a nap at the hotel. When we woke up, we were about to head down to the lobby for some drinks. I looked over and she wasn’t wearing any pants, so I figured the drinks could wait for a little. When we used to f**k, she never really gave me head. Like she would if I asked for it, but she would never naturally do it. This weekend, though, it was like she felt obligated to before we fucked each time. And I’ll tell you, I was missing out on something from before, because this was phenomenal. It was very loving. After a little of that, we moved onto the main event. I was f*****g her from behind and it was clear that it was hurting her a little, but she wanted to power through it. What a trooper. Afterwards, we got some drinks and then went out to dinner. The plan was to go out after dinner, but we didn’t get done until 10 or so, and since I had stuffed my face with pasta (naturally), I was pretty tired. We went back to the hotel and passed out. She woke up around 1 and said she was going to go back to her house to sleep, so she could let her dog out. I was leaving the next morning pretty early, so she just said that she would come and pick me up at the hotel. Maybe she just didn’t feel comfortable sleeping with me because of Andy (but she was comfortable f*****g me?). That was fine with me, so I went to sleep. Then about an hour later, I heard someone coming into my hotel room. Nicole said she couldn’t sleep and wanted to come back here. That’s more like it.

In the morning, my dick was exhausted. We had fucked 4 times in the span of 18 hours and I don’t think it was up for another round. So, we didn’t f**k again in the morning. Instead, we just drove to the airport. When we got there, she started crying. This was something new for her. She had never really cried in front of me before. Not even when we left each other from the summer. Not on the phone with me when she was breaking up with me. Nothing. So this was different. She said how she didn’t want to see me go and wanted me to stay. She said how she was going to fly out to LA soon too. I told her that was all dandy and sweet. I got on the flight and returned home. Later that day, I got a text from her saying she had just broken up with Andy. Wow, that didn’t take very long. She said that she didn’t tell him about me coming to visit, but instead, that she just didn’t feel the same way anymore and needed to end it before anything got more serious.

Did I feel bad for what I had done? Not really. It sounds terrible, but I really didn’t. Yeah, Andy was probably a nice dude, but if your girlfriend is still in love with the guy she cheated on 4 years prior, he clearly was doing something wrong. And since I had been cheated on, I figured I got a freebie there. Bad logic, but whatever.

Over the next few weeks, we continued to talk every day. It felt a little relationshipy, but I explicitly told her that I was going to keep living my life as if I didn’t have a girlfriend, and I told her to do the same (i.e. don’t make decisions based on the other person). She thought that was fair, but then later told me how she really didn’t want me having sex with other people. She knew it didn’t make sense, but she said she wanted my dick to herself. Sweet of her, ain’t it? We started talking about her coming out to LA for New Year’s, but she said she probably couldn’t afford it, especially if she was going to need to get surgery. Therefore, we decided that I would come out there again, except this time I would fly to St. Louis, and then we were going to drive to Nashville and spend the weekend there. I fell in love with Nashville when I was at Vanderbilt recruiting during the spring and had been dying to go back, so this made sense. I’m heading out there next weekend, so we’ll see what happens…

And…… we’re back. So it was a very interesting weekend in Nashville. For the few days leading up to the trip, Nicole started getting pretty dirty via text with me. She kept on asking what I wanted to do to her and how she couldn’t wait to go down on me. I told her that I wanted to f**k in the car on the drive from STL to Nashville and then wanted to f**k her in a bathroom while we were out to dinner, and also engage in some butt-play and choking. I think Lia has gotten me hooked on this whole butt thing. She said she wasn’t positive about it, but we could maybe work up to it. Good enough for me! It had all the makings for a pretty wild and promiscuous weekend. Then, I actually got down there.

The morning I was flying out, I awoke to a text message from Nicole saying she had already thrown up twice that day because she was so nervous/excited. Sounded a little intense, but oh well. Then, she forwarded a text that she had just received from her ex. He said that he knew some things about her that happened while they were together and he now realized that he hated her and how huge of a b***h she was and how he had never gone from loving someone to hating them so quickly. My favorite line was “Karma’s a b***h, just like you”. Baziiiiing!!!! Obviously, the first thing that came to my mind was he found out about me coming out somehow, but I wanted to see if Nicole would admit to anything first. When I asked her what he meant, she played dumb and said she couldn’t possibly think of anything except him finding out about me, because she never cheated on him. Could I believe that? Probably not, but I let it slide. We decided that one of his friends must have seen us out together during the weekend and then waited until after they broke up to tell him. The best part was when she was describing the situation to me, she tried to turn it on him. She told me that he still had some of his stuff at the house and she was going to get an eviction notice to stick it to him and how she owed him a few thousand dollars from the mortgage that he definitely was not going to be receiving now. Even when she is 100000% in the wrong, she still finds a way to make the other person feel bad. Ahh the good ol’ days. It later turned out that Andy was alluding to something completely different, so Nicole was in the clear.

So that was the start of my day. The rest of it went fine. Unlike my first trip to STL, I wasn’t really nervous at all. Maybe it was because I hadn’t purchased my tickets only a few hours in advance, or maybe it was because it felt like I was going to visit a girlfriend more than just a f**k buddy. Either way, I soon arrived in the heartland. When I saw her at the airport, we embraced and made out for awhile. Then, as soon as we got back to her house, the clothes came off and we went at it. She had pre-empted our romp by telling me that I was going to have to take it easy on her for the first few times because she couldn’t take it. Yeah, like that was going to happen. As soon as I got my hands on those big ol’ t*****s, all bets were off. The first time we fucked, it was basically just me taking full control of her. I had been imagining this moment ever since I had gotten back from St. Louis the first time, so I definitely was not going to go easy on her. After we finished, we waited about 30 minutes and then I wanted to go again. She said her vagina needed a rest, so instead she was going to pleasure me. Perfect. She had told me earlier that she felt like she didn’t bring her A-game in the head department the first time, so she was looking forward to another shot. Let’s see if all that hard work and practice paid off. Well, I didn’t find out, because she decided that she was just going to jerk me off. Yeah, it felt good, but c’mon. This isn’t high school anymore. That was the perfect opportunity to show of her fellatio skills and she blew it (but she didn’t). Okay, okay. That’s fine. It was only the first night. Maybe she wanted to slow-play her pocket aces. We got in the shower to clean off and then went to bed. In the morning, we banged again and then hit the road for Nashville.

The drive was pretty uneventful. 6 hours of talking, listening to music, and stopping for gas. No mention of pulling over to f**k. No pit-stop-make-out-sessions. Just a standard drive. However, as soon as we got to the hotel room, we dropped our bags and fucked. That was nice. We went out for a nice dinner and then went back to the hotel. Since we had about 2 hours to kill before heading out for the night, we figured we should probably f**k again. I was still waiting for the new and improved BJ, since the first time I came out she had literally started every one of our bangings by blowing me to get me ready. Still nothing. Her mouth hadn’t even come close to my dick yet. I figured I needed to take matters into my own hands, so in the middle of this time, I pulled out and told her that I needed her to spruce me up a little so I could keep going. She almost reluctantly put my piece in her mouth. She put forth little effort, took it out, and told me to stick it back in her vag. Hmmmm, something was going on here. After we finished, I joked about how I was waiting for this amazing head she had been telling me about, but I almost had to force her to blow me. She laughed a little and then explained how she really didn’t like giving head because she didn’t like the taste of pre-cum. EXCUSE ME!?!?! Let me get this straight: I could barely keep my dick out of her mouth a few weeks ago, then she texted me all this stuff about how she couldn’t wait to go down on me again, and now when she has the chance, she said she doesn’t like giving head because of the taste of pre-cum? Not even cum. Pre-cum. Like some girls won’t swallow because they can’t stand the taste of cum, but we’re talking about pre-cum here. Pre-cum?!?! This boggled my mind. It might not taste great, but imagine every girl who didn’t like the taste decided they would stop giving head. All that would leave for head-givers is prostitutes and girls with no taste-buds. I didn’t make that big of a stink of it, since we were still f*****g a lot, but c’mon. Later that night, we got all dolled up and head out for a night on the town.

For those of you who have never been to Nashville, it’s awesome. Every bar on Broadway has live music, mostly country. You can pretty much hop from place to place at will, since none of the spots really have lines and the environment is very friendly. That’s just a side note. Back to the story.

We bounced around to about 3 or 4 bars and then since I had a huge dinner and had been drinking all day, I started to get sleepy (as is pretty typical of me on a Friday night). We decided to call it a night around 12:30 and head back to the hotel. By the time I was back in bed, I was pretty much asleep. We both passed out.

In the morning, I was up around 7:30 or so, and as is pretty typical with me, very horny. I got her going too and we fucked. This time, I was choking her a little and it seemed like she was liking it. I thought this because in one of her texts to me before I came out she said that she couldn’t wait for me to choke her and have her give me that look that said she wants it a little bit harder. However, I believe I was mistaken, since afterwards she said how she had almost passed out and did not like it. In my experience with sexual asphyxiation, that’s kind of the goal; get to the point where you almost pass out and then let loose. This apparently did not excite her though. So, for the rest of the weekend, I told her I would lay off the choking. We went out to a nice brunch, then headed to a bar for the afternoon to watch some football. After that, we went back to the hotel to nap. When we woke up, we fucked and I guess I caught her in a good groove, because she told me that at that point, I could do whatever I wanted to her. When I said “Anything?”, she said anything except sticking my dick in her a*s. So, I went ahead and plopped my finger in her pooper. After we finished and I asked her how it felt, she said it was definitely different, but in a good way. You’re welcome. Later on, she got ready for dinner, while I watched more football. We went out to eat and then out on the town for the night. I realized that we were not going to be f*****g in a bathroom at a bar/restaurant, or really doing anything too ridiculous. It dawned on me that this really was turning into a romantic getaway for people in a relationship. That’s when I asked myself, “Self, what the f**k are you doing?!”

This had spun pretty far out of control. Obviously, I was not looking to jump back into a long distance relationship with this girl. I kept on telling myself that this was some sort of closure that was necessary for the healing process, but ultimately, I think it was just a classic case of thinking with your little head instead of your big one. The next morning, we woke up to f**k again. At this point, I had almost mailed it in. So what did I do as we lay there in bed getting ready to f**k? I spun her around on top of me into a nice 69 position and got that BJ I had been hoping for, as I ate her out and stuck my fingers in her a*s. I viewed this more as a power move on my part than anything else. Like, “Okay, you’re not going to blow me because you don’t like the taste? Well how ‘bout these apples? Boom! 69 all up in your face with a nice pointer finger in your a*s.” She once again went with it, which was good to see.

After that, we went out to brunch and then drove back to St. Louis. The drive back definitely wasn’t awkward, but it didn’t feel the same as the drive there. That might be obvious to some people, as the drive back from anywhere is never as exciting as the drive there, but you could tell things were different. Maybe we had both realized that this wasn’t going anywhere, and I didn’t help discourage that notion, as every time she kept on saying “Oh, we should do this for our next trip” or “I can’t wait to go somewhere else with you”, I would just laugh a little and say “Let’s just take it one trip at a time.”

We got back in the evening, went out to dinner, came back to her house to f**k and then went to sleep. When we woke up in the morning to go to the airport, she was sad. She didn’t cry this time, unlike our previous trip, but she kept on saying how much she didn’t want me to go. After I got out of the car, she texted me saying how miserable she felt and how she missed me already. I really didn’t want to get sucked back into her evil ways again, so I wasn’t very comforting in my responses. When I got back to LA, we didn’t text as often. It’s now been over a week since my trip and I haven’t spoken to her on the phone once. Our texts are down to maybe one or two a day, and I think this is going to fizzle out soon. I think I will need to have that pivotal conversation with her when I explain how I would be an idiot to try and make this work again, but for now, I’m just going to keep living my life. F**k it. I’m young. Live in LA. I don’t need crazy divorcees holding me down!