It was nearing the end of the semester when every house decides it’s time to get their shit together and plan events. On the same Saturday one fraternity was hosting a pig roast and another a rave. I was recently cut off the night before by a fuckboy that I had spent way too much time and energy on getting to like me (it’s not possible, girls, don’t waste your time).
The rave was happening at the fuckboy’s fraternity, so obviously it was my goal to find some cute boy to dance with there to get his jealousy flowing. Mature, I know. I arrived early because this place was my stomping ground but immediately felt awkward knowing that his inconsiderate body was floating around somewhere. My go-to solution in any awkward situation is to get obnoxiously drunk, so that’s just what I did.
Within the next thirty minutes, I inhaled a few mixed drinks and an entire fruit punch Four Loko. I think I helped one of my sisters finish hers too, but it gets a little fuzzy. I remember heading downstairs and outside to the rave and well, that’s it. My next memory was the sun had set and the final DJ was on stage.
Since the rave was finishing, I made a last minute effort to find a boy to dance with. Selection was minimal, but I was persistent. Luck was on my side because I managed to find a very attractive male that needed some company. I turned my charm on and made him my dance partner. It was obvious that I was eyeing the ex-fuckboy with my every move, but I was drunk and didn’t care. I was just making sure he knew that I knew that there was better out there.
Once the rave was over, everyone headed inside and I schemed up the grand finale. I grabbed my newly found buddy and made the most dramatic exit of all, being sure to make eye contact with all the brothers, proving my superiority over them. I would not be defeated. I was better than all of them. I exited with a non-verbal “fuck you” and we were gone.
Karma, though. I forgot about karma. Once I left with my new man, we headed back to his fraternity (because what else would a couple of college kids do?). After some awkward small talk with this guy that I sort of kind of knew, but not really, we went to his room. I wasn’t sure the whole time whether I needed to seal the deal to get my point across, but hey, he was really cute and word spreads fast in my little college town. We went upstairs and I’m sure you can guess what happens next.
The next morning I woke up in unfamiliar territory since I had been waking up at Fraternity A every single weekend morning of the past semester. I rolled over to find a cute boy laying next to me on my right (yay, drunk eyes didn’t screw me over this time) and something else under the covers next to me on my left. I was hesitant but checked it out anyway. What I was about to uncover has haunted me every day since.
Remember the pig roast that was happening the day before? Well, the actual cooked pig head found its way into the twin bed I was sleeping in that night. Right. Next. To. Me.
I did a double take. There’s no way. How? What? Why? I froze, trapped between a sleeping frat bro and an even more sleeping pig. Freaking out, I pretended to sleep myself. After all, this must have been a dream, right? I was grossed out to the point of nausea. The frat bro next to me woke up and got out of bed and thankfully recognized the situation. He grabbed the head (ew) and ran down the hall, screaming at his brothers for answers. I grabbed my things and made the smoothest of exits, down the stairs and out the door. No words could describe my feelings. Karma was out to get me.
Apparently one of his brothers thought it would be funny to throw the pig head in his bed. I will never understand boys. More specifically, frat boys. I still have nightmares involving pigs. I have big plans for the pig head after this year’s pig roast. Just need to find someone to pick it up for me, because nah..