My junior year of college changed everything. At a time when you're supposed to be finding yourself, your direction, mine was dictated to me. It's defined my actions for a good 15 years since then. I guess I'll get to it.
I'll spare you the whole background, it doesn't matter who I was, just who I became.
I lived off campus in Rhode Island for the first time. I had two roommates who were considered close friends. We had a blast, booze, broads, the works. The girl I was dating had just recently broke up with me and we held a 'returning to the wild' type party for me. After way too many shots and a few bong rips I was pretty out of it. It was past the point of even trying to hook up with anyone. I resigned myself to going to bed alone (which seemed to be a regular occurrence, even while I was dating her).
I said goodnight to some friends and started the seemingly endless journey to my bed. Stumbling up the stairs, I knew tomorrow would suck. I had no idea.
After a brief rest against the hallway wall, I finally reached my room. The door was closed, which was normal when we hosted parties. After fumbling with the knob I pushed my way into my room. I was too drunk to be shocked, too stoned to care, but there on my bed was a couple going at it.
"Shut the door dude," he yelled as this anonymous girl was riding the hell out of him. I just stood there, transfixed on her ass wildly bouncing up and down. She looked back at me and reiterated, "In or out."
Slowly regaining my surroundings I took a half of a step inside and finally got the door closed. I was transfixed by her, she was gorgeous. I'd never get a girl like that in my room by myself. I fumbled with my shirt, and before I could even get it over my head I tripped and landed next to the bed.
I can still hear her laugh. I stayed there on the floor, trying desperately to get my clothes off. For the next few minutes it was like I wasn't even there. They just kept going at it on my bed.
