HOLY HOOKUP
Not even a prayer could save today’s contributor from this sex nightmare
I met this guy at a party a few months ago. He seemed like the perfect gentleman — he held my skirt down while I did keg stands, taught me the fastest way to bong a beer, and pretended to be my boyfriend when creepers hit on me. As if that weren’t enough, he was over six feet tall, tan, had soft dark hair and beautiful green eyes.
We never hung out sober, but would hang out every weekend under the influence. He wasn’t like other guys who would plan on getting down my pants by the end of the night. After the third week of drunken flirting, all we did was make out occasionally. A few weeks ago, we finally took it a step further. I went into it thinking it would be the best sex ever. I mean, how could someone so perfect not deliver?
Mid-hookup, he asked me to stop. He got up, knelt on the floor, and asked me to join him. Then, he started saying a prayer, in which he thanked God for penises and vaginas. Afterwards, he called his mom, told her that he was about to lose his virginity, and wanted tips on what moves to make in bed. Then he asked if he could take a picture of me to send to her … preferably in my bra and underwear. I told him I had to go powder my nose first, took all my clothes, and ran out.
