My college years were some time ago and it feels like I need to start writing out some of these stories if I don’t want to lose the memory of them completely. Every one of these stories is completely true to the best of my recollection. You will know they are true because I am usually the fuckup of the tale.
In the late 1980s, I shared a loft apartment with three other dudes several miles from the university. It was above an old clothing store on the little college town’s main street, and it was perfect for parties. It had a big open floorplan with a door that opened onto the roof, and we’d invite dozens of people over to party with us. Mostly girls, of course.
One night at a particular party there was a girl no one could take their eyes off of, holding court in the kitchen and the guys all schooled around her like piranha. She had a deep tan, dark curly hair that draped over her shoulders, and she was wearing the perfect hip-hop outfit: A man’s blazer worn open over a black lace pushup bra and a pair of trousers she wore just below the waist. Total Fly Girl, and she was looking to pair up for the night. Because of that fact, everything she said was super funny, and every guy wanted her to know it.