>>> The Rollercoaster of Drama
By staff writer Simonne Cullen
October 17, 2004

Pete and Repeat were walking down the street. Pete fell in. Who was left? Repeat.

Pete and Repeat were walking down the street. Pete fell in. Who was left? Repeat.

Pete and Repeat were walking to your room. Pete and all your other crushes slept with your roommate and you're drunk. Who is left?

RePete.

Who is this infamous RePete? Maybe it's your neighbor. Maybe it's your best friend from home. Maybe it's that constant drunk hookup. Whatever the case, chances are sometime during college you will develop an odd relationship with someone who is constantly making random appearances in your social experiences. This person is your rock solid back up plan. Your “Plan B” if you will. The one person you know will be available when all else fails and the feelings of loneliness and drunken confusion seep in—normally around bar time.

Seniors know what I am talking about because they can look at their track history and notice a repetitive pattern. It's that favorite song you always have to hit repeat on when you're drunk. Girls are more prone to this than guys, but everyone's guilty of pleasuring themselves with that trumpet player or Swedish exchange student with the big eyes and even larger rack that you keep going back to for more, but won't dare be seen eating brunch with the next morning.

“Listen RePete, this is just between you and me okay? It's our special connection. It's nothing for other people to find out about.” When actually it's just about sex and you don't want anyone to find out about this and think you're a slut, or if you're a guy you don't want any of your buddies to find out you just banged snaggletooth.

RePete the college hookup is like test driving cars. You can test drive the fast cars at the Porsche dealership and feeling as if you're being lifted into the sky by the roar of the engine. And you can cruise around in a Ferrari and imagine pimping up and down College Avenue. Hell, even an old school mustang is a buzz kick. But when you look at your bank account you realize that you can't put in the time and effort it takes to maintain it—not to mention that you're technically still living at home with mom. Therefore you must always resort to the back up plan: the reliable, affordable, monotonous, Honda Civic, whose model never really changes, never provides a good chase, but gets you from Point A to hopefully Point O in a reasonable amount of time.

The most commonly-uttered phrase about RePete the next morning is, “Well it seemed like a good idea at the time.” Because it did. Alcohol makes you depressed. It makes girls emotional. Very emotional. Very scarily emotional. And when you're black out drunk, that random meeting at the bar almost seems like fate has stepped in, and the sex gods have thrown you a pity bone. Hopefully your stomach won't be the only thing that gets pumped tonight.

But the real question is…why do you keep coming back to this person? Obviously there is some sort of connection there, whether they are providing you with listening time or a service of the sexual nature. How do we always manage to find them? And why are they always readily available? Maybe it's because whether you want to admit it or not, you're somebody else's back up plan too.

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