It was a Saturday night in autumn. I almost always went out every non-school night back then, but this particular night I couldn't find anything to do. If I'm not mistaken my roommates and closest friends were too hungover from the night before, so I was on my own if I was going to do anything. Back then it used to eat at me when I didn't go out on the weekend because I always felt like I was missing out on something.
At times like that I would reach outward from my circle of good friends to lesser-friends and acquaintances, and this night it happened that one of those outer-circlings was having her birthday party at her house. I knew her and her roommates for a few years by then, as far back as freshman year, and even one of them from college orientation. I knew that they partied hard, they were lustful, and fairly attractive and thus, would be able to pull a good party. Cute girls can always host and throw a good party. Guys flocked to that, not only for the hostesses, but because of their friends. Hell, I was one of them. And it's a simple fact that females feel more comfortable going to a party at a girl's house than a guys in the first place, but females tend to have more female friends, and are usually more generous with their booze. Needless to say, I didn't have to be begged to want to go as there were perks.
However, a couple of things made me think of just staying in and watching a movie: one being that none of my close friends was going. To some people that doesn't matter but to a house party where you may know no one but the wasted hostesses this fact can be discouraging. The other thing was that one of the hostesses, Rachel, had always had a crush on me and was always relentless...no relentless is too subtle, ravenous maybe, to get me in bed. Now I have a strange conscience in comparison to some males, and I am turned off by a girl throwing herself at me and being strongly aggressive (unless she's my girl). Furthermore, I knew all too well that she slept around quite a bit, and we had this goofy relationship where she would tell me her "count" every so often through our college careers. It seemed in a way like a goal for her. I think that she was simply a nympho, she talked about sex openly quite a bit in a very confident way. But it wasn't just her, it was her roommate Noelle as well. They were both very notorious among people that knew them for being sexually strong personalities with bisexual undertones. Overtones? I don't know, I just remember that they talked of their exploits with both genders with bravado.
I think that it drove her crazy that I would never sleep with her, and would repeatedly turn her down time after time. It's not that she was ugly, but she wasn't gorgeous either, it was just that there was no sacredness to her with the act of sex, and there was for me.
I thought about the prospect of going a little more, and the most obvious and legit reason for going dawned on me: It was my friend Noelle's birthday. A good friend, no matter where in the circle of friends, is still a friend and should make the effort when they can. It took me long enough to think of that, but at least the thought came. Lacing up my trusty addidas, I threw on my usual t-shirt and jeans and headed out the door solo, grabbing my you'll-never-see-Ryan-without-it red jacket. It was November and I remember that the Missouri air had a remarkable crisp feeling to it, the girls lived in a residential area south of campus, so it was about a half-mile walk for me from my apartment. The autumn air gave me a boost, and I suddenly felt excited during my trek that this could be a fun night.
Everyone who has approached a party at night can imagine that sense of curiosity upon seeing the event: hearing the jolly hum of many voices talking over each other at once from one compact location, echoing off the street and nearby houses...the warm glow of the party, lit up to project the number of persons crowded into a house...the lines of cars framing the event by proximity, while a couple or two might be outside or on the phone having those unfortunately familiar arguments about their relationship.
I walked up the steps and squeezed my way through to the mass of people, all unfamiliar faces until recognizing the screech of Rachel as she bullied her way through her party to grab me and give me a hug. It was actually a relief to be embraced in that situation, so I gave her a grin and played a few flirtatious cards.
I wanted a drink. Then again, she wanted to give me a drink. She always did. She had tried many times to do what guys usually do for girls: give them plenty of alcohol in hopes that there will be some less-than-conscious decisions. Honest mistakes if you will. Funny isn't it? One individual doesn't think the other person will like them enough to sleep with them sober with their own will, so they hope they will "earn" the other person under the influence. Yet it is a tried and true practice, and maybe people just ultimately want to have sex with each other, but getting rid of their inner inhibitions with alcohol is a precise ritual to make it happen.
Anyways vodka and ice, I don't recall how many, mixed in with a beer here and there as the night went on. I met much of the unfamiliar crowd and made some one-night friends. I played Jenga, kissed a strange girl on a dare, made a temporary name for myself as an expert on screw-drivers after making one for the birthday girl, and found myself smiling and laughing. The time flies during that part of a party. 3 hours feels like 30 minutes. And thank God there was still a sense of self-awareness in me a few hours later as the party died down.
The celebration had hit it's lull. The majority of the party had left, though there were still 15 people or so going strong, mostly guys still trying to impress and flirt with the last hand full of ladies after the dust had settled and the competition waned. My own flirtatious machinations had found me in the section of Noel and Rachel's rooms and their bathroom, which was sealed off by a single door that led to the rest of the house. At first it was me simply me using the bathroom and then playing with the music stereo in Rachel's room that projected to the rest of the house. Then Noelle came in closed the door, turned me around from the stereo and kissed me.
It was Noel's birthday's so I felt that this was proper. She was the prettiest of the roommates and had a great athletic body, she was a dancer and actress for the university theater I recall. So I was doing my due diligence. Indeed, I liked it and went with it, who wouldn't? Well I'll tell you who also wouldn't: Rachel. She followed into the room a couple minutes later, shutting the door behind her as well, grabbing Noelle, calling her a slut in a teasing fashion, and began kissing her. So there I was, exchanging kisses with both of them. I had tunnel vision, my sobriety was on the verge of blacking out and all I could see was the prospect in front of me that was going to unfold.
They began to take off a few articles of each other's clothes; me only relinquishing my jacket. The pressure was on, I turned to Rachel and said "Wait." when she started pulling at my belt buckle. I walked into their shared bathroom and closed the door to their giggling and heckling. I didn't have to pee. I had to find my soul. I put my hands on the sink and stared at myself in the mirror and asked myself "Can I do this?" I played out a few scenes of action that would come out of the next few minutes, then the next hour, and then...what! What would happen then? I somehow gained a bit of my senses back, likely because of the gravity of the situation. I thought about what the morning would be like after this. I thought about the boldness and lack of boundaries that these two girls had. I thought about the STD's that they likely had. In that moment, the thought of the pleasure, brag-rights, manliness, fantasy, and sexual tension were only whispers.
I looked at the door with it's old-fashioned hook-lock and thought of the motion of me unfastening it and heading back out to meet them. I looked at myself in the mirror again and said to myself "Nope, this is not you Ryan. We can't do this." The only way out from here was the window, which I threw open to my disappointment to find a permanent screen. Noelle began knocking at the door and teasing me about coming out and being "ready for her" Whatever did that mean? I punched the screen and it broke perfectly at a right angle in the corner of the frame. I began to tear out an exact square that matched the window. No one would notice. Or at least that's how it looked in my drunken mind. I finally had the square out and moved to put myself through the window, to only realize that the door still locked, and with that latch it would be impossible for anyone to get into the bathroom after my escape.
As silently as possible I unhooked the latch and put myself in the window, one leg over first to find something to hold my weight outside the sill. I found nothing, and realized that this old house's first floor window was a good 7 feet from the ground because of the basement. I began to shift my body out of the window to where I could dangle myself from the bottom of the frame, but before I could get my second leg out a brief two knocks came at the door and the knob began to turn. I threw myself out of the window and waited for the ground to meet me. I landed in the dark yard, made soft my grass, dead leaves, and adrenaline. I heard a questioning voice inside, and looked up at the window to find myself basically in the square of light reflecting from inside. I quickly rolled out of the way into the darkness and ran.
After about 80 yards from the spot of my fall I began to laugh. I don't think I could have had a more stupid grin on my face as I walked the rest of the way home.
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