Connect with us
Connect with us


An Open Letter To The First Guy I Hooked Up With


To He Who Shall Not Be Named,


Hello, it’s me. I’ve been wondering if after all these years you’d still be scarred by our little rendezvous. It’s been a while since our awkward grinding in the dimly-lit frat basement lead to more than dimly-lit grinding in a frat basement, long enough that I thought it was finally appropriate to address a few things. Well, mostly apologize for a few things.


First and foremost, I’d like to apologize for not telling you exactly what you’d be getting into. You probably started off the night like any other guy: maybe you ate dinner, maybe you called your grandma to wish her a happy birthday, maybe you and your friends spent 10 minutes arguing over which bar would have “all the hot slam pieces”—or whatever it is you call it—until you decided on mooching off free frat booze. When first locked eyes mid-drunken white-girl nae nae, you probably thought I was some sort of sex-fiend, doing the whitest possible nae nae ironically. Little did you know, I only considered myself to be an expert at the ever-undesirable OTPHJ, and I didn’t think my dancing was cool because I was drunk, I just thought my dancing was cool. I have since seen the light. You never think a natural disaster will happen to you until it does.


I’d like to think that most of the night was covered under the general apology, but there’s still a few items I think need some attention. I’m sorry for asking you if you were on birth control when you asked if I was. I don’t know why I did it, but probably for the same reason I’ve told my barista that I hope she too enjoys my latte. I’m sorry I put the condom on the banana sitting on your desk out of instinct; I was at a point in my life where I had more experience in sex-ed than in the bedroom. I’d also like to apologize for sneaking into your housemate’s room at 6 a.m. the next morning thinking I was sneaking out of your house. I think that about covers it. No, wait, I’m also sorry for jokingly asking you if that was how babies were made. That covers it.


But most importantly, I’d like to say thank you. Thank you for not telling anyone about the disaster that was our sexual escapades, or at least telling enough people for it to get back around to me. I’d be lying if I said I didn’t half expect to go home and open the front page of BuzzFeed to see “Virgin Girl Mistakes Foreplay For Foreskin Play, Scars Sexual Partner For Life” headlining the site, so I guess it wasn’t as bad as I remember it, right?


[fdxAds id=139877 container=fdx-container align=right]

All that being said, I’d offer to reconnect and show you how much I’ve improved, but if we’re being honest here, you weren’t that impressive. For a guy who had fucked a girl on every continent, made it into the Guinness Book of World Records for longest “go at it,” and had a vegan, organic, gluten free condom brand named after, you really weren’t all that mind-blowing.


Writing this now, I’m beginning to realize that you may have also exaggerated your sexual resume, but still, I expected more of a junior account exec than the 8-week summer intern you gave me.


Call me, beep me, but really let’s please never speak again,


The adoptive parent of your XL Lakers shirt


Continue Reading

More from Booze

To Top