So Fridays are usually a pretty slow day at work. Add to that, I just finished doing our month and quarter-end filings for clients and was picking up the stragglers so it makes for a pretty relaxed day. Because of that I had a chance to peek at my WP reader for a little while this morning as I sipped on coffee.
Coincidentally on my Reader there were two bloggers who wrote about something rather traumatizing (and lived to later laugh about it). Allegra – writing about why she had to throw away her Morp dress. Crystal wrote about the pitfalls of living with two male roommates. In that post she pinged InNateJames about his post on morning grogginess and his inability to filter what comes out of his mouth sometimes.
I thought maybe there was a ZeroToHero assignment I’d missed on writing about a traumatic moment.
Yes and no. There was an assignment but coincidentally they all three happened to be of an “it’s funny now” variety.
So while we’re all sharing, I thought I’d add a story of my own into the hat of trauma.
So nearly three decades ago (WOW, that is a long time ago) I was a freshman in college. I had been paired as a roommate in the dorm with a transfer student who was pretty much the opposite of me. He was 6’7″. I am not. I am 5’3″ Yes… I really am that short and male. He, at 24, was older (for a college student) and I was 18. He had a girlfriend (actually fiance) I did not. He was an athlete. I was scrawny and skinny. He was a clean cut, all-American fratboy type. I was a long-hair, hispanic, music major geekazoid.
After a week or so we find that we actually get along and he assumed a big brother role of sorts and dispenser of all things I should know about college: like… how to properly do a shooter, the best technique for playing quarters, the best pick up lines, how I should dress to get
more any girls to notice me. Now that I think about it… pretty much everything he thought was important to teach me about college had to do with partying and/or meeting girls.
So in one conversation he begins by stating his confidence in how many girls I will have rotating through our room with his tutelage and mentoring. I thought it rather crude but I was listening. He decides we need to have some sort of signal.
“Yeah, you know if I have Angela here or if you have someone, we need to let the other know not to just walk in.”
Angela was his fiance. I loved Angela and for the life of me couldn’t figure out why she was with my roommate. She was really sweet, seemed to be very kind, genuine, quite pretty, with his role as mentor, she sort of assumed a big sister role as well, so that grew my affection for her. Not in a romantic way but as… well, a big sister I guess.
So to his statement about needing a signal, I naively said (sort of as an answer and question), “Maybe I could knock as a signal.”
“Or you…“ he said in an effort to include me in the plan,
“could give a signal when I’m outside the door. Remember you’re gonna get lucky, too. RIGHT?!”
I sheepishly and embarrassingly respond, “um. Yeah, right.”
“You’re damn straight I’m RIGHT!” He moves his hand to his chin, rubbing it a little, looks up in thought and says, “So a knock…
A knock. No that’s stupid.”
My face apparently gave away that it had been my idea.
He quickly adds, “Well I mean, you know what if your girl is being really loud and you can’t hear me knock.” He starts to scrunch his face a little, so now you know that jock brain of his is really in overdrive trying to come up with something.
I think to myself that I have a brilliant idea and announce, “Maybe a bandana on the door knob?”
“YES! See… now you’re thinking!”
I beam with pride that I have finally contributed to the discussion on how we will garner as many notches on the bedpost as possible. Actually I was thinking if I had half a notch that was more than I would have dreamed of. But then he counters, “Nah… those assholes on the floor will just take it off. I know I’ve done it before at my old school.” (one of the first of many clues that would tell about the type of guy my roommate was)
Finally, after at least half an hour of this meeting of the minds he decides we’ll just tape a note to the door that says something like, “Knock. I’ll let you in.” I wanted to say “but I thought you said a knock was stupid.” but who was I to argue. I mean heck, I was gonna get a notch in the bedpost right?
So a few days goes by and I had just finished marching band practice. It was late afternoon, I’d had a good day, no more classes, had met a freshman girl from the flute section and dinner was calling my name. I practically had a spring in my step. I think I may have actually been humming to myself. I mean I was excited about having met a girl and was looking forward to telling my roommate. I kinda felt like this guy.
I don’t know… I must have been on cloud nine or something. It was just one of those days when everything seems to be going well and all pistons are firing. I just needed to drop off my trumpet in the ol’ dorm room, go grab my buddy from the drum section in the next dorm and then dinner at the student cafeteria.
I pulled my key outta my pocket and it slipped right in the keyhole. Hey!… this is my day! No fumbling, no trying to get it in just the right way. In fact, it fell right in and I flung the door wide open ready to tell my roommate about the flute girl and ask what I should do next. After throwing open the door, I see a profile of Angela’s figure, her tits bouncing as both her hands were holding a rail from the top bunk above her head as she sat on top of my roommate. My roommate was holding her waist, nehked as a jaybird and then both of them turn to look at me.
It was like time froze for a moment. It felt like I left that door wide open for a full 60 seconds if it was 3.
My eyes I’m sure were as big as plates. I yelled out “oh my God!”
Angela yelled out, “oh my GOD!” and jumped off my roommate, who, as she did that, fell out of bed then grabbed his back with his wanker pointing straight at me and yelled out in pain, “oh MY GOD!!!”
I slammed shut the door.
I stood there… a bit in shock, in the same spot as when three seconds earlier I swiftly glided my key into the door. I looked up as if for a sign… some sort of sign, anything!… that would tell me why on earth I had seen my newly adopted big sis naked and doing the nasty with my roommate. And sure enough, I did see a sign…
… at eye level for someone 6’7″ tall was a yellow post-it sign that read, “knock… I’ll let you in.”