>>> The Rollercoaster of Drama
By staff writer Simonne Cullen
March 26, 2006
So my friend Aggie and I were headed to five dollar movie night, as we do most Tuesdays, when her boyfriend called. The boyfriend informed her that he had found a pair of his roommate’s briefs in the boyfriend’s room next to the boyfriend’s computer chair. Apparently they were covered with what looked like discharge (but could very well have been white-out). My first thought was to tell him to check his computer’s history and get some disposable tongs to remove the polluted underwear from his room. But the poor guy was so bewildered by the thought of his roommate using his computer to masturbate that he left the evidence behind. It was a dirty little secret he had, which caused us to think about our dirty little secrets. But let me tell you something, if any of my friends needed to get themselves off that badly, I’d be like, “Dude just use my computer, and sanitize the keyboard and mouse when you’re done.” I’d also expect them to do the same for me. That’s what real friendship is about: reciprocation, and not leaving excretes next to each other’s workstation.
And that leads me to secrets. Girls absolutely love it when a story starts or finishes with, “Don't tell anyone I told you, it's supposed to be a secret.” But a secret is only a secret if up to two people know about it. It's not a secret if three or more people know about it, they are known as witnesses, and/or people whose testimonies could possibly be upheld in court. But where would we be without secrets? Judging by the responses I got, I'd say friendless and pregnant.
“Was breaking up with your girlfriend so hard that you took a fishhook to your cock? Isn’t that against the man law?”
My, my, my, my, my, there's a whole lot of cheating going on. Sure, most people have made out with someone they weren't supposed to or someone society doesn’t accept socially. You know, townies, the janitorial squad, the guy in your calc class who resembles Michael Jackson a little too much. But after reviewing all the DLS, I’d have to say that if cheating were socially acceptable, these people would be the norm….
I am fooling around with a boy who has a gf back home and she has no idea….we don't have sex but do everything but that….i am also having sex with this other guy who is oblivious about my other boy….yes, i am a skank but i'm single and loving it.
Well at least you admit it.
My boyfriend, whom I love, has a really small penis, and his brother doesn’t. I know this because we meet at a cheap motel in a small city that’s the halfway point between my school and his.
I would imagine there’s no antique shopping going on at these meetings in the cheap motel.
i lost my virginity to one of my friend's boyfriends. to this day, he and i are the only two people who know i'm not a virgin anymore.
I’m not here to figure out what constitutes sex, whether it be oral, anal, frontal, whatever, I’m not a doctor, but don’t hold onto the virgin card for so long, because one day he’s going to get drunk, information will fall into the wrong hands, and denial mode is not pretty on a face everyone thought was angelic, pure, and untouched by the male demon seed.
Cheaters Never Win
We all slip. Depending on stamina and blood alcohol level some people slip in and out of each other several times, anywhere from 15 minutes to 33 seconds. And while I don’t condone cheating, I know that it happens on campus more frequently than anyone in a relationship would like to admit. Which is why there’s a great reason being single is so fantastic, so magical: because single people can fuck strangers and not freak out on the inside the next day and every day after that hoping that their roommate/brother/best friend and in some cases, even mom finds out the dirty secret sex deed. So next time you get the urge to cheat, just remember cheating = bad, single = banging ANYONE YOU WANT.
I took his virginity, and then alternated nights of having sex with him and the other guy i was dating for three weeks, telling each of them i wasn't doing anything with the other.
I have to ask, does your vagina open up into a two-bedroom apartment with poor ventilation? Because with all those visitors you’ve been having it sounds like you have plenty of room.
Every afternoon before heading over to my ex's house while we were trying to patch things up I would stop at Alvin's (a pseudonym that my girlfriends and I drunkenly came up with) for an afternoon quickie… that would sometimes call for an evening cancellation with the ex while our bedroom antics lasted through the night… for seven months..
Why did you name him Alvin? Does he wear a red sweater with a yellow A on it that travels down to his shoes and talk with a really high voice? Because if that’s the case, I’d try a little harder to work things out with your ex, whose name hopefully isn’t Simon or Theodore.
I've been secretly hooking up with the boy my roommate used to date and now hates with a passion for the past month, even though she would kill me for it, not to mention I have a boyfriend.
This sounds familiar, were you in my sorority?
Then there are skeletons so far in the closet they’re just waiting for the right moment to come out, both literally and sexually speaking…
I had sex with my best friend's boyfriend…did I mention I'm a guy…ooops…
I love the ooops part. Like “ooops I meant to warn you but I came anyway,” or “ooops I accidentally just peed all over your shoes officer,” or “ooops you caught me leaving your room naked with lotion all over my dick, right hand, computer chair, and mousepad, ooops.” That’s the word of the week my friends, ooops.
Since my girlfriend and I have been together I've cheated on her seven times……with both sexes.
I feel like I’ve walked into an episode of Will and Grace where they just say fuck it and start doing each other, and then Karen and Jack wander in drunk wearing vests and join in.
My roomie and I laugh off the dyke comments….but we're really fucking all the time….seriously.
…if people have suspicions then I don’t think it qualifies as a secret anymore, rather, speculation and hearsay…
I have heard my fair share of embarrassing moments. I knew this one girl who passed out on a friend’s couch and woke up with her period, all over her pants. I don’t know what was more disconcerting though, the fact that she walked across campus back to her room, the fact that when she got there we had to point out the abortion all over her khakis, or the fact that she screamed at us to remove our futon mattress and replace it with the one she had soiled thinking no one would ever notice it again. Miraculously there was no damage to the original futon mattress and the guy never found out about the flood that occurred in his room. But that dirty little secret is now public knowledge. Ooops.
After having sex with a girl, we both fell asleep in her bed, I peed all over myself, her and her sheets, and convinced her that she did it.
Well it’s better than taking a giant dump I suppose.
I slept with the best friend of my ex-boyfriend… in his 12 year old sisters bed… on his birthday.
Well unless everyone is sitting around drinking playing “I Never” and someone says, I never had sex on Barbie sheets, you’re pretty much in the clear.
I stole a Jimmy John's delivery car and crashed it into a dumpster.
Was this because their sandwiches suck? Because I understand.
Once I slept with a REPUBLICAN.
Yeah, I’ve been there. Don’t worry there’s a discussion group for that. We meet once a week and there are free doughnuts, but in order to reap the full benefits of the group you gotta sign a contract stating that you will never enter the state of Texas ever again—not just during an election year.
I feed my vegetarian boyfriend meat when I’m mad at him.
“No baby that’s not blood coming out of your burger, that’s soy product dyed red, and could you focus more on me than your goddamn food for once you heartless son of a bitch? I have needs too dammit.”
Then there are secrets that stand on the line between contrived and genuine. Secrets that have psychological explanations so intellectual you’d actually have to go to class twice a week to fully understand the root of the problem…
I once pricked my dick with a fishhook so it looked like I had herpes so it would make it easier to break up with my girlfriend. Turns out my dick got infected and now it actually does look like I have herpes, and my girlfriend doesn't care because she says she loves my brain and not my cock. I am fucked.
Was breaking up with your girlfriend so hard that you took a fishhook to your cock? Isn’t that against the man law? God forbid you ever meet Justin Rebello my friend. If you did, I’m sure he’d assist you in re-learning the rules of manhood, and how to treat their counterparts: “Don’t touch your dick with anything sharp or rough.” Chapter one, you sissy bitch.
Somewhere along the line I found myself bitter over some of these secrets. Bitter and jealous that there’s affirmative action for pot smokers.
I pick up weed for my 67-year old English professor. About twice a semester, we smoke bowls, and then get lunch.
Good for you buddy, my English professor told me I was the worst fiction writer ever, so keep up the good work, but I have a couple of questions. One, where do you guys go for lunch where no one notices that you both have the munchies? And two, who pays? Is it on you because he holds your grade in your hand? Or is it on him because you hold his job in your hands? Is it Dutch treat? And I noticed you didn’t mention what school you’re from, but I’m sure there are a lot of people out there who’d like to go there now.
I tossed a roommate's textbook in the dumpster and also fucked with his alarm clock so he would be late for his final.
Did you find out your girlfriend was sleeping with him? Because I’m pretty sure she wrote in too.
Secrets vs. Lies
Admittedly, I had to root out some secrets that sounded like complete and utter lies. Secrets are secrets if they’ve happened. Lies are not secrets but mere lies if you’ve imagined them happening but they never actually occurred. For instance…
I slept with my best friend fiancée three days before the wedding, and my best friend was the groom.
Wasn’t that a deleted scene from the movie My Best Friend’s Wedding?
Sometimes I get really afraid that my friends and family (and myself) who don't go to church will really go to Hell like my teachers at various Catholic schools told me.
Sweetheart, there are people out there who think that if you have pre-marital sex you’re dick will be attached to her for life. It’s scary to think about, but will it ever really happen? No. And as a Catholic I can promise you that God sleeps in on Sunday and watches the game, just like every other man on the planet. If God did ever show up to church there’d be a laser show and Dan Brown in shackles as his bitch. Trust me, you’re in the clear.
I stripped on webcam for a random guy I met in a Yahoo chatroom; he sent me $50 for it
Wow, you’re a whore. A whore who strips on a website and gives out her address. You better hope that was a 15-year-old boy at the other end of that webcam and not the village pervert who now knows where you live. This is college: you strip on tables at parties, flash people on Spring Break, and when the occasion calls for it, maybe even class (a little accidental see-through nip never hurt anyone). But you definitely leave the chatroom stuff to the crazies and the naïve.
And finally, my personal favorite:
I’m actually a pussy. (signed) Chuck Norris