Written by anon
In the spirit of terrible movie trailers that give away every exciting part of the story, I’ve chosen to title my piece for maximum effect and the least subtlety. (But how are they related? The true mysteries still remain…)
Is it generally a good idea to start a story with a meta-comment on the title? Probably not, but it’s somehow fitting given that the story itself is a lovely compendium of poor ideas, resulting in this.. – drum roll please – Hookup from Hell.™
I was, at some point, a student with an alarming propensity for alcohol and an understimulated set of genitalia (save being a massive wanker in every sense of that word). I also happened to be a member of a Facebook group that comprised of politically active, thoroughly debauched students from across the UK. A new member of that group, I immediately began sharing the minutiae of my most intimate moments to several strangers, which, weirdly enough, resulted in a girl flirting with me.
Since whatever happens on the internet doesn’t count and trading suggestive comments can never have any real-world ramifications whatsoever, I thought nothing of it.
And then a bunch of those people decided to have a meetup in a pub in Central London. I knew exactly one person there, who had added me to that group, but knew altogether too much about most of the attendees, since I was not alone in oversharing. Awkward first introductions included, I believe, “Oh, you’re the one with the weird fetish. What’s your name again?” After drinking about three social-anxiety- soothers, I was idly chatting with a couple of folks when I was tapped on the shoulder by the girl I’d been flirting with and her friend.
Her friend was not subtle. “_______ would like to sleep with you.”
More out of shock than anything else, I uhmed and aahed and replied, “…I’ll think about it?”
I was then told I was being rude, which in hindsight was probably correct. In further hindsight, I should have thought about it for longer than I did. At this point, recall from your economics lectures the concept of diminishing marginal returns. Then extend that further to the special case of G&Ts, which display negative marginal returns at, in my case, double number 7.
“I’ve thought about it, and, uh, why not?”
Some minutes later, terrible kisses were being had, and some more drinks were being drank. We left, and I was going back to hers. It was the first time I’d ever ‘gone back’ with anyone, and I was relatively unsure of how to proceed. The walk and the tube journey took around an hour, and was largely filled by terrible arguments owing to our complete political incompatibility. I wish that was the worst of it.
I entered her house, trying not to wake her flatmates. Her phone needed to be charged, so she searched through her entire room for a charger. Including under the bed, where she realized that her landlord had the good sense to place mousetraps. Unfortunately, the mousetrap was currently occupied, and by the looks of it, had been for a long time.
“Can you please throw this out for me?”
Call me a prude but this kind of foreplay was new to me. Whatever. Some poor dead mouse was flung outside a window. There were more important things.
Down to business. Clothes off, music on. Except I had no real idea of what to do in this situation, since I hadn’t ever been in one like it. She had previously expressed a desire to be dominated, which, I suspect, wasn’t satisfied, due to my constant verbal queries as to what I was meant to do.
I ended up providing some poor facsimile of oral sex, following which she said, “I’m in love with someone else. I don’t want to do this.”
Which was kind of awkward but probably a fair comment on my performance. I left, stealing a wine bottle, genitalia remaining understimulated, and headed to a gay club.
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