I’m fairly certain that I first met Favorite my freshman year at a frat party at his house. Out of respect, I won’t reveal the specific fraternity, but I will allow you enough details to make an educated guess:

There was a giant sign on the jungle juice jug which read “WARNING FROSHIES: THIS WILL FUCK YOU UP - ONE GLASS ONLY” in sweet shiny calligraphy undoubtedly penned by one of the boys’ slutty sorority counterparts. Please do not be fooled: the boys did not do this out of concern for anyone’s health; they did this because knew we’d react just as any sane person would to wet paint: touch it instantly. It’s your standard “moth to a flame” response – and naturally Hurricane and I immediately abandoned our dwindling Franzia boxes to dedicate ourselves to Jungle Juice for the entire night.

Somewhere between arriving and leaving, I found myself in Favorite’s room getting stoned as fuck with people I could not name. Slowly, people began to filter out back into the party, but of course I stayed. The last thing I remember was discussing how fucking sweet his mattress was, and then waking up the next morning.

What’s excellent about freshman year is that you have no fucking car whatsoever. This was also pre-iPhones and universal chargers, so your phone died basically every night around one and there was nothing you could do about it. It’s also freshman year, so waking up anywhere other than campus looks is completely fucking foreign terrain, and since you’ve only been at school for like three weeks, you definitely do not have your roommate’s number memorized. For all these reasons, and probably many more, I woke up in Favorite’s bed the next morning to the sounds of a jovial group in the kitchen and immediately panicked.

A respectable person is able to sneak out from their one night stand’s house without having to face all of his roommates and their subsequent sorority girl girlfriends in full hair and makeup the next morning. A respectable person can also find their underwear without having to search high and low. I am quite clearly not a respectable human being.

As I lay there in what was basically a stranger’s bed, with no working phone, and no fucking clue if I was within walking distance of campus, I realized that I had limited options. So, I chose the most brave and most mature decision: continue to pretend to be asleep.

It was as though Favorite had heard my exact thoughts as I thought them because precisely eleven seconds later he bounded through the bedroom door proclaiming, “Breakfast is ready!”

“ … “ I kept pretending to be asleep. Surely he did not think I was going to eat in front of him, let alone his friends and their girlfriends right now.

“Did you hear me, lady?! Breakfast issssss readyyyyyyyyy!” Oh good fucking god.

I did my best impression of drowsily arising from my slumber. I assume it was flawless.

“Um, what time is it?” I asked trying to seem curious.

“Breakfast o’clock!” Who was this person and what was I thinking.

“Uh, no thanks. I’m not that hungry. Can you give me a ride home please?”

“Sure, no problem. We’re all headed over to campus anyways. Come have breakfast then we’ll go.”

UGH. I silently cursed myself and my lack of self-restraint as I slowly collected the various pieces of my wardrobe, which I found strewn throughout the room. I peeked in the mirror, immediately wishing I hadn’t. My hair was inexplicable, my makeup from the night prior looked like an ink-blot test and my outfit was too slutty for daytime. I was also in the middle of rush week and I did NOT want these girls to see me.

I took as long as I could to get dressed, but it wasn’t enough. I finally took a deep breath and exited Favorite’s room, heading into the kitchen.

As I came into view, all three girls’ heads snapped to attention. Their hair was done, their makeup was flawless and they looked like they were in need of a fucking sandwich. It was only ten o’clock so I don’t know why or how they accomplished this feat. None of their expressions remotely resembled friendliness.

“Hey, what’s up.” I murmured hunching behind Favorite.

“You’re a froshie, right?” One girl snidely asked me.

“Yes, I’m a freshman.”

“Oh, well that’s cool … I guess.” Another girl scoffed, glancing at her friends – both of whom wore smirks like they were going out of style.

“What kind of bagel do you want?” Favorite asked, apparently unaware that I was being attacked by a gaggle of rabid prairie dogs.

“Onion please.” I heard one of them snicker, but whatever, I was hungover and starving. I promised myself not to forget to grab the piece of gum stashed in my clutch.

“So, did you guys have fun last night?” one of Favorite’s roommates asked, semi-humorously, semi-embarrassingly.

“Yeah we had a great time – smoked four blunts.” Favorite replied, touching me lightly on the thigh, invisible to the others.

“Oh. My. God. Favorite let you smoke with him in his room? He NEVER lets me do that! What the fuck, Fave?!!” Girl number three was talking now, but talking is too kind a description. It was a whine, but the kind that doesn’t come from anything living. This was a whine sent directly from the depths of hell to permeate and rupture eardrums.

“Yeah well that’s because you’re fucking annoying and rude. In fact, all three of you are.” Favorite said nonchalantly, eyes twinkling as he did, knowing they were too dumb to even bother with.

A gasp reverberated throughout the peanut gallery, then, a struggle for words. And I mean struggle.

“Come on, kiddo, let’s go.” He said before anyone could speak, grabbing my hand and leading me out to the car. We pulled over three times on the way home so that I could puke on the side of the road.  

On bid day, I got zero bids. Out of sixteen sororities, zero of them wanted me.

Still get high with Favorite, though. 

{previous}   {table of contents}  {next}