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Hookup Horror Stories: He Wet the Bed!

It started out like any other night. You’re blasting Ke$ha throughout your off-campus townhouse while you get all dolled up. You spend an exorbitant amount of time running around half-naked, but eventually, between 5 closets and more-than-5 sips of Franzia you pull together a stunning outfit. While you usually leave the party-hosting to the fraternity men in your life (you like it when people do things for you, and they have like…pledges, duh), tonight is an exception. Your roommate, Emily, is turning 21 at midnight so an epic pregame is in order. Just after you pull yourself together and set up the pong table you hear the doorbell and guests start to pour in. You can’t help but notice Drew, who you’ve been secretly crushing on for awhile. For the first time since you met one another, you’re both single. How convenient. You catch him eyeing you for the better part of the night, but quickly forget about it as the clock strikes 12 and you rush the birthday girl out the door.

Two hours and three bars later you find yourself at a table at the campus diner. Drew stayed at your place with a bunch of his brothers and your underage roommates and is now texting you to come home. YES, an excuse not to eat! You politely announce that you have a ready and willing penis to attend to, assign someone the duty of making sure Emily lives until morning, and casually stroll home. Actually, fuck that. You’re jogging. It’s cold and you haven’t had sex in a while. Get back to your apartment ASAP, do not pass go, do not collect $200.

You burst through the door to find your belligerent friends playing beer pong and someone makes the executive decision to take shots to toast your arrival (if there’s one thing I’ve learned during college, it’s that bedtime shots are ALWAYS a bad idea. But I digress). Drew is so cute and he’s all over you and before long the two of you retire to the bedroom. After making out for a while, you try to get things started and discover a very disappointing bit of information. He’s…less than hard. Like, a lot less. Basically the opposite of hard, and it’s not gonna change anytime soon. Before you know it he’s snoring and you’re trying to ignore your frustration. Dammit, at least cheese fries at the diner would’ve been satisfying.

The next day you both wake up as the sun beams in through your blinds and exchange the typical awkward morning pillow-talk as you do with any new hookup. You start to wonder if he’s going to make a move for a morning sesh when he says oh so eloquently, “I have to tell you something. I think I…um…. ” He lifts the blanket and you see it. So many things run through your head…WHAT THE FUCK!?? IS THAT… IS THAT PEE? YOU PEED MY BED?? ON MY PURPLE EGYPTIAN COTTON SHEETS!? You only manage to stare at him, and then back at the stain, and back at him with a dumbfounded look on your face. Cue profuse apologies. He offers to wash them for you. While you’re thinking, OBVIOUSLY you’ll fucking wash them! I’ve never been so disgusted in my life! Instead you say, “Um, sure.”

After he strips your bed, puts your sheets in the washing machine, and sticks around for a few to help you clean up from the night before, he’s on his way and you’re left with a bare mattress and a huge fucking wet spot. You’re tired, and it’s Sunday, so you rinse off in the shower and decide you need a nap, so you crawl into your roommate’s bed. But not Emily’s. She might vom in a typical morning-after-21st-birthday fashion and you’ve had enough contact with bodily fluids for one day.

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