"Dude I am so wasted. Holy fuck am I fucking wasted. Like, I woke up at 8 in the morning and I just started drinking. I've drinken so much. Dude, I don't even remember how much I've drunk, but it's a fuck of a lot. Can you believe how wasted I am? Oh man, I fucking love college. I fucking love being this wasted. Holy fuck I can't even see straight. The room is spinning. This is so great. Holy fuck this party is awesome. This is like the party of the year, man. Chicks everywhere, and good awesome beer. Oh man, this is," you said.
When I woke up the next morning you were passed out in a pile of what I can only hope was your own vomit and not the vomit of the large man lying next to you, also covered in vomit. I took a picture and mailed it to your mother in hopes that she would find it as funny as I did. And she later told me she did, of course.
When you woke up you remembered you had a job interview in forty-five minutes and you quickly brushed your teeth and balls, and were on your way.
Today you thought you saw her on line at the supermarket, but it was a different girl with blond hair and small tits and a studded leather wrist bracelet. You were buying a box of condoms and NyQuil and you picked out the most attractive cashier you could find in hopes that she would see your condoms and realize that you, too, were a sexually active member of the opposite sex, and that you two would have sex shortly thereafter. Maybe on her 10 minute break.
Maybe after her shift cashiering at the local supermarket.
But strangely, when she grabbed your condoms she did not seem at all to become aroused in any way sexually. And you were confused.
Right then, as you handed her your credit card, you were going to ask her what time her shift was over this evening, but you got scared and grabbed your bag of condoms and NyQuil and went home and masturbated under the familar cherry influence of your NyQuil until you fell asleep satisfied and very alone.