Failure in dating and in life is inevitable. It sucks in the moment, but it’s healthy to get knocked down a few pegs. It builds character. It teaches you necessary lessons. It thickens your skin. And, like this poor bastard — who’s undoing was completely his own, idiotic fault — it gives you something to think about every time the “I hate me’s” kick in on those mornings after you had a long night of drinking and for some reason your brain forces you to think about every awful thing you’ve ever done in your life.
If you’ve never experienced a bout of the “I hate me’s,” well…fuck you for thinking you’re better than me. But if you have, then you know this guy is bound to remember this galactic-level fuck up the rest of his life.
Per his post on Reddit:
Some back story. I met this girl when I was taking a few summer courses to complete my remaining credits for my Bachelors degree (oh how ironic that name is). I was drawn to her right away because she has an exotic, Slavic-sounding name – for the sake of anonymity we’ll call her Svetlana. She was radiant. She was beautiful, silent, and distant – like the Northern Lights. And like most people who aren’t used to seeing the Northern Lights, I’d often catch myself just staring at her like an idiot, lost in thought. I guess the only difference is that the Northern Lights don’t get weirded-out when you stare at them for extended periods with your mouth hanging open like a lobotomy patient, so that was one of my first mistakes.
Anyways. I’d said nary a word to Svetlana but wanted to find a way to get to know her outside of class, where it was a bit less unwieldy to start up a conversation (versus “HEY, TECTONIC SHIFT IS PRETTY SWEET, HEY? DO YOU LIKE THE RED HOT CHILI PEPPERS?”). So, I had a streak of genius (or so I thought) – I would invite my entire class (which was pretty small, maybe 20 people) to go to the movies, with the hopes that she would go too. And it worked. She signed up on the Facebook group I’d created for the event (I know, I’m practically Rico Suave when it comes to putting on the moves). It was settled. She and I – and about 10 people from our class – were going to see a horror movie on Saturday. Perfect.
Fuck up #1: We get to the movies. Everyone’s dancing awkwardly around the “oh hey, now we’re outside of class and we’re being forced to interact at a non-academic level” situation, myself included. We sit down in the seats near the back of the theatre and I make sure I sit right beside Svetlana. I wasn’t planning on anything particularly nefarious, but I figured it’d be a fun way to break the ice if I waited for a scary part and then grabbed her knee to scare the bejeezes out of her, which I imagined would produce a hilarious shriek followed by startled laughter and then long talks about our future life together as husband and wife. So there I sat – hand poised inconspicuously to my side, ready to pounce. Cue fuck up #1. The scary part happened when a side character got bit by a monster, and it startled me so badly that I tensed up and PUNCHED HER IN THE FUCKING LEG. REALLY FUCKING HARD. Like, hard enough that she crumpled forward and almost hit her head on the seat in front of her. GREAT ICE BREAKER PAL, SHOW HER YOU’RE UNPREDICTABLY VIOLENT, PARTICULARLY WHEN STARTLED. I apologized profusely and Svetlana assured me she was ok, but I knew I’d given her a Macho Man Randy Savage charlie-horse and felt especially derpy. I spent the rest of the movie wishing I was dead.
Fuck up #2: We left the movies. Standing outside, this same group of classmates – who didn’t really know eachother any better after having sat silently through a horror movie – danced awkwardly around the “how do I say goodbye to a group of people I don’t really know” situation, myself included. Svetlana said she’d be taking a bus home – and it turns out I was taking the same bus. We hadn’t really talked since I smashed her leg like the fucking Hulk, so I figured this could be a chance for me to try to smooth things over. We both get on the bus and I try to sit beside her as casually as possible, and say something pretty stupid and vacuous like “Hey, so that scary movie was scary, hey?”, but she entertained my stupid and vacuous question and we actually ended up having a really nice talk. She was into music, I was into music, she liked hiking, I liked hiking, that sort of thing. We got to her stop and I said “This is actually only a few blocks from my place, do you want me to walk you home?” – nervous that I might be imposing too much – but she responded with “Wow, really? No one has ever asked to walk me home before, that’s so sweet!” – NAILED IT! I STILL HAVE A CHANCE OF SALVAGING THIS. Cue fuck up #2. So I walk her to her house, and the whole way we’re talking about life, passion, the universe at large. We get to her house and the night is perfect – it’s quiet, warm, a gentle summer breeze through the oak trees, soft glow from distant street lights. She says “Well, this is my place…”, and we stand there looking at each other. She is rocking back and forth from her heels to her toes, looking at me, almost expectantly. And then she moves in a bit closer, and starts to lean forward… and I shake her hand. I shake her fucking hand, ladies and gentleman. Her eyes opened and her face contorted ever so slightly into a scowl of disgust, and I say “Boy I had a great night Svetlana!” or something equally stupid, and I turn around and literally run away. Like I said – Rico Suave, folks. I spent the rest of the run home wishing I was dead.
Fuck up #3 – the big one: Our departure had been awkward enough (by my fault alone) that I basically couldn’t bear to talk to Svetlana after that. About two weeks later, she posted in that same Facebook group (not a bad idea after all!) advertising that she’d be hosting a BBQ at her place in celebration of us finishing our course. “PERFECT!”, I thought. “I can prove once and for all that I’m not such a bumbling idiot!”. I was so nervous all day, my palms were sweaty, I couldn’t eat anything. I put on my most stylish clothes and showed up trying to seem extra aloof and “cool”. Boom, right away, social anxiety – the place was loaded with like 60 people, of whom I knew maybe 4 (including Svetlana). A few hours in, people started playing beer pong. “PERFECT!”, I thought. I don’t drink regularly, but I’d spent the past year playing ping pong every day (I’m THAT cool), so I knew the weight and flight trajectory dynamics of a ping pong ball and figured I could seize this opportunity to really impress her.
“SVETLANA!” I shouted. “Let’s play beer ping pong! Same team!”, to which she looked uncomfortable but eventually said “It’s just beer pong, not beer ping pong, but… sure, I guess”, and she walked over to the table with me. PERFECT. And just as I suspected – I single-handedly dominated the first game against 2 strangers, without losing a single cup. However, because I don’t drink, I’d never played beer pong, and didn’t know the rules. I thought the game was sort of perfunctory and the main purpose was to drink, so in a doubly-stupid move, I say “Don’t worry Svetlana, I’ve got this-” and I down all 8 cups of booze. Turns out it wasn’t beer – they were playing with shots of hard liquor. But hell I didn’t care, I was riding a euphoric athlete’s high from my demanding victory of throwing a ping pong ball across a table. “Who else wants to get their ass kicked?!” I shout at the room. Svetlana was starting to warm up a bit, and quietly chuckled. Two more people stepped up. In quick order, I’d dominated that game too, and only lost one cup. After the game, Svetlana saw me reaching for a cup and grabbed my arm but I said “Don’t worry Svetlana, I’ve got this-” and downed all of my cups, again. I could hear people snickering and speaking under their breath but I ignored it. “Come on, who else wants some of this?!” I taunted, feeling ten feet tall and bullet proof. “No no no, you should just sit down for a bit” warned Svetlana. “Oh HELL no, you and me are going right to the top!” I said. “Oh, I just think you should take a break for a b-” “WHO WANTS TO GET STOMPED?!” I interrupted. Two more strangers stepped up. And I narrowly won the third game, not quite as smoothly or impressively, but I won. Before she could stop me, I’d downed all of our cups, again. She looked a bit amused, a bit concerned, but not as uncomfortable as she had 10 minutes ago. And then, right in the front center of my head, I started to feel warm fuzzies.
“HIDE AND SEEK!” someone shouted from across the Living Room. At this point, running on 24 cups (which must have equaled 12-16 full shots) of hard liquor on an empty stomach, Hide and Seek sounded like a GREAT idea! With 60 people! In a one-story house. Whatever! Someone flicks of the lights and we all start running around like crazy people. Svetlana and I met abruptly at the door to one of the rooms. We hear the dude who was “it” approaching, so we duck into the room – which was painfully bare, and we were bound to get caught. Svetlana grabs me by the sleeve and pulls me into a closet at the side of the room. And there we sat; with the full moon beaming through the window and through the shutters in the closet door, the soft hum of “Bare Naked Ladies” playing on the stereo in the living room, the gentle pitter-patter of foot steps and ambient giggling of the Hide-and-Seekers outside. It was perfect. She looked at me, I looked at her, she leaned forward, I leaned forward, and we kissed! It was perfect. It was a beautiful kiss. I leaned back, my heart a-flutter, and say “Svetlana… I just want you to know, I think you’re r-“BBLLYEEEUUUUUUGH and I PUKE, I PUKE RIGHT INTO SVETLANA’S SLIGHTLY-OPEN MOUTH. I PUKE INTO HER FUCKING FACE AND INTO HER MOUTH. I puke SO HARD, in fact, that I almost pass-out face down into her laundry bin. When I brace myself to catch my balance, I look at her, and now I am tumbling down the metaphorical Water Well of complete unrecoverable intoxication, and I make the drunken observation “Haaa, Svetlana, your shirt is wet.” And then I realize what I’d done. I realize it’s my puke all over her shirt, and face, and closet. I basically knock the closet doors off their hinges and stumble into her room and scream “SOMEONE NEEDS TO TAKE ME HOME RIGHT NOW!”. At least that’s what I tried to scream. I got out “SOMEONE NEEDS TO T-” and thenBBBLYYYEEEARRRRGGHHUUUUUHHHHH, I puke again, hard, all over Svetlana’s fucking BED, QUILT, PILLOWS, AND NIGHT TABLE. THIS SHIT WAS COMING OUT OF MY MOUTH LIKE IT WAS A FIRE HOSE AND I WAS TRYING TO SAVE CITY HALL. And then… darkness. That’s where my memory stops.
I woke up the next day, face-down in my room, completely naked, with my door wide open. When I stumbled into the living room – feeling like someone had taken a shit inside my skull – I saw my clothes everywhere. My room mates later told me that someone had driven me home at about 3AM, and I was slamming on our front door with my shirt pulled over my head, shouting incoherently in basically only vowel sounds and Svetlana’s name – “AAHAOHHH, EEEYYAAHHOOHHEERRGGHH!! AAAARRAARRROORRYYYRRRRGH!! SVETLANNNAAAAA GGUUUURRGGGUUUHH”, and when they opened the door, I ripped all of my clothes off and hurled them around our house like the Tasmanian Devil. Pants were on the fridge, shirt was in the stove, socks were in the sink, one shoe was in the garbage and the other shoe was never accounted for.
Svetlana, if you’re reading this, I’m so sorry things never worked out. And for puking in your mouth… And punching you in the leg.
TL;DR – Tried to impress a girl I had a crush on, instead I turned into a psychotic puke-breathing dragon and barfed into her mouth.
I’ve done a fair amount of dumb, drunk shit in my life — including urinating on human beings while sleepwalking and falling asleep during sex on multiple, blacked out occasions during college — but none of my transgressions compare to the horror of vomiting in another human being’s mouth. There’s no recovering from that. As evidenced by this guy having no relationship whatsoever with this chick after his movie night took a perilous turn.