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Two writers, one character, and a whole lotta chronicles. Follow Corrine through her dating disasters, the great loves, and the one night stands. This book will inspire you to laugh at your own mishaps and mistakes and cry with Cori for all the losers that never called the next day.--Book By: Danielle West & Megan Grant

Saturday, October 8, 2011

My Worst Booty Call & What It Means To Have a 'Half'

So you know those 'in-between' times when you're not newly single but you're not officially an old maid? You're just kinda having fun, hooking up, being wild and going out with your girlfriends a lot. Well, a few years ago I was in this very spot and I had been talking to this chick I met at a bar a few weeks prior (hey, any girl is lying when they say they don't enjoy girls sometimessss) and we were planning on meeting up.

My roommate and I invited her over to our house and she made the hour drive out to go to this hole-in-wall gay bar down the street called Pumps. Right? Anyway, so when I first met this girl--beer goggles and all--she seemed legit enough. She had short dark hair, a lip ring, and tattoos, which I loved! She was younger than me, which meant she wasn't legal to drink but we didn't mind because that meant a DD for the night. AND she had a fake ID, so we were golden.

So this chick comes over and she seems cool but a little nervous. Obviously, my roommate and I were hott as hell and we weren't exactly in our PJs when she got there. We were dolled up and looking slutty for the other lez-bos, duh! Her name was Lauren and she got to our house as my roomie was finishing up her make-up in the bathroom and I was filling up on McDonalds. (I was high as a kite and hungry, plus I'd be drinking--I needed sustenance.) 

Before we left for the bar, we chit-chatted with Lauren. Obviously I told her she could spend the night. I didn't invite the girl out to paint our nails and braid our hair...and I was sure she didn't drive an hour out to do that either. This was clearly a booty-call and nothing less, nothing more.

At one point, we got on the topic of how many people we had all been with while passing around a joint and getting giggly. She asked me how many. I told her my slightly above average number and asked what hers was. This girl seemed like she got a lot of ass but sometimes those girls are full of shit and this girl was so full of shit I'm pretty sure her eyes went from blue to brown in her short 19 years of life.

She said her number was exactly '12 and a half.' Maddie (my roommate) and I laughed. “What the fuck was the 'half,' a midget?” Maddie said. 

Lauren proceeded to answer with “Ha, no..like..it wasn't REALLY sex but pretty much?” I couldn't help myself. 

“Ok, so…12.” 

After we double teamed the poor young lesbian, Lauren and I somehow got on the topic of having sex with each other. She sounded cool and collected and acted like she had 'swagga' by saying “Oh, we're fucking tonight.” Alright...this girl was blunt and straight forward; I could dig that. She went on to tell us all of her stories about how she usually only had sex with straight girls because all the straight girls wanted her. Please.

So after we listened to this girl's bullshit, we went to the bar and all of us got rip roaring drunk, completely ignoring Lauren pretty much the entire time until we were ready to leave. We stumbled into the house around 2:30am after hitting the Taco Bell drive thru.

Lauren and I went to my bedroom and I turned the TV on for light and as we got into bed, nothing happened. I thought since she was such a pimp earlier in the night I'd let her take action, make the first move, be the big, bad lesbian that she was. After two hours of television watching and no pants flying, I was getting sober, tired and pissed. I said bluntly, “Are you gonna make a move or what?” 

She replied with the typical, “You can make a move, too.” What a child. Now I just felt dirty.

She finally rolled on top of me and started kissing me. Bad move. It was terrible and her breath was worse than mine, which I couldn't fathom since I was the one eating fast food and doing jager bombs all night. Then she went for my panties, but when she started doing her thing, I started to get more dry by the second. I immediately regretted saying anything at all and now just wanted to go back to watching The Golden Girls.

After about 45 seconds, though, she stopped and stared at me in the dark. I said, “What?”

“I can't do this…I'm not a whore.” Gee, thanks kid. 

“No problem!” I said probably too enthusiastically and then went to pee. I returned to sleep for about an hour and a half and when I woke up, there she was. As far on the other side of my bed as she could get.

I was repulsed and got out of bed, went upstairs and climbed into bed with my roommate. She woke up and asked how 'it' was and I told her the story to which we said at the same time, “HALF!” So that's how Lauren became my 'half' and that's how I learned that she probably had a slew of halves that all rounded up to about 13.

Lesson: Get a cab and invite the legal ones over for a wild night.

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