How Not to Get Laid

(Part 2 in our educational series about the dangers of alcohol. Part 3 to come in a few days. Listen and learn, children! — SF)

Submitted by Ron, Age 29, Austin, TX

It’s New Year’s Eve, 2006, and I’ve got a night planned with a very attractive co-worker of mine. She and I have been out enough for me to know I like her, and for her to discover I’m not quite her type… but it’s New Year’s, dammit! Nobody likes to be alone and neither of us had been intimate in ages. It had been two years for her, and almost five years for me. This was going to be a good night and I’ll be damned if I was going to let anything get in the way.

I had Italian food brought in from a favorite restaurant, a couple of hot mix CDs on hand to set a mood, and vast quantities of liquor to quell the nerves. Now in our time together, I’d shared info about my past hookups and how they typically had not gone well, and she was always reassuring and optimistic, which was nice, but there seemed to be no physical chemistry on this night. We talked and drank some wine… and a pitcher of margaritas… and a few beers. Before long, we were nearing countdown and a date with Carson Daly, so we flip the tube to ring in the year.

As we hit 2007, she asks for a kiss and I’m happy to oblige. Nice, but I’m not getting my hopes up. Oh look, there’s another beer! She’s getting tired, and we’ve already decided I’m spending the night, but now she wants me to jump into bed with her! Score! The crowd goes wild as I spoon her and start rubbing her shoulders. Effortlessly, I remove her bra and free her of her panties and set my roamin’ hands to task. She pulls off my pants and puts her hand down my shorts as the applause crescendos. She flips me onto my back (yes! bad ass!) and starts to give me a handjob… except nothing’s happening. The crowd gasps, their mouths agape as our hero now wonders, “did I have one too many beers?” That I did. It would have taken an act of Congress to get my member to rise that night. I tried to show her a good time orally and manually in spite of this, but after a half hour or so, she decided she’d rather sleep. In the morning she hit me with the “I’ve made a huge mistake” line and had no interest in a second try. I added this event to my list of sex neuroses, and checked off another day on my sexless calendar. As of today, my streak is a Cal Ripken-esque 1951 days. Top that, boys!

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