I've never been very good with girls, and it didn't help that I was an annoying, ugly little chubster in high school.
In college I started running and eating right, being forced to talk to girls, and I got better looking. I learned to pretend I was confident. I was still a nervous wreck deep down, but if joining a fraternity did anything to better me as a person, it taught me to be more confident and outgoing.
Either way, until the start of my fourth year, I hadn't had sex. I had only slept (literally slept, and cuddled) with a couple girls, kissed a few more at parties, and gotten a couple handies. I hadn't done much more, and my excuse to myself was that I was waiting for the right person. A serious girlfriend or something like that. But I was still just as horny as ever.
Toward the start of my fourth year, my house threw a party. Many beers, pulls of admiral nelson, and shots of who knows what transformed me from a quiet guy to a party animal, dancing on a table with 3 other guys, each of us accompanied by a random grinding or twerking girl.
My beer goggles failed me when the party died down and the girl I was dancing with came inside the house with me. My trusty roommate knew what I was about to do, and did his best to stop it by staying in my room and annoying the shit out of us until we left. We, in our nearly-blacked-out state checked every spare room, only to find that each was occupied in one way or another. My personal favorite was a recent alum, balls deep in my friend's fuck buddy. But that's another story.
We decided to sit on the couch in the front entryway, where guests usually wait, and start making out. That's the last thing I remember.
~~~
The next morning I woke up in my bed, alone. Messy hair, nasty mouth, mild headache, hungry as hell. I stumbled out of bed, saw my roommate's disappointed smirk, and dismissed it as I walked to the kitchen to get food. Three people in the hallway applauded me and asked if I had fun last night.
"Uhhhh, sure?"
I got a couple more reactions in the kitchen, and started to get worried. As I walked back to my room, bagel in hand, I received more applause, smirks, etc. I asked what was so funny, because I blacked out.
"You don't know? No one has told you??." "Ahh, well I'm sure someone will tell you."
I finally walked into my room, only to learn from my roommate that I had hooked up with the girl, on the front waiting couch, in plain sight. And worse yet, I had supposedly "passed out on top of her, mid-thrust."
Supposedly, only one person had witnessed it. A person who I, at one point, had roomed with, and I knew loved to make up stories to get a reaction out of people, especially at others' expense. I was in denial. Nothing added up, in my eyes. The biggest piece that has never made sense to me, is how I woke up in my bed alone, if I passed out drunk. There's no way I woke up still blacked out and somehow made it into my bed.
I was the blunt of the jokes for a couple weeks, and though it has mostly worn off, it's still referenced when anyone is in need of a scapegoat, and I still cringe when I see her on campus, regardless of a lack of memories of the event.
The only reason I still believe it, is the text I got from an unknown number the next morning – "Thanks for last night. I had fun ;)"
tl;dr I may or may not have blacked out and passed out mid-thrust with a stranger, in a public area.
Source: reddit.com/r/gonewildstories/comments/331qfi/the_mystery_of_my_first_time