Thursday, January 29, 2009

TMI Thursday: What the Rock is cookin’

First thing, before the entertainment portion of today's post, driving into work this morning the car in front of me had a McCain-Palin sticker on its bumper.

Or, I should say, the remains of a McCain-Palin sticker. The driver of the car had, I’m guessing since the election, taken the time to scrape off the “McCain” part of the sticker leaving just the “Palin” part.

Hope springs eternal? I don’t know about you, but I’m of the opinion the less we see of the former mayor of Wasilla the better off the country will be going forward.

Anyway, on to the TMI Thursday portion of today’s entertainment.

I ask you to think back, back to when we were young, carefree and responsible for nothing more than making it to class on time and hitting three keggers before curfew.

In a word, back to college.

Remember those glorious days way, way back in our youth when, despite the wonderful freedom offered by a life on your own, every once in a while it was nice to return to hearth and home. If only for a single night.

To set the scene a little more accurately, it is the spring of 1996 in North Carolina and my girlfriend at the time needed to go home for some reason or another and I was going along for the ride. Actually, I was doing the driving up to Elkin, N.C., but that’s neither here nor there.

My girlfriend, Meg, was a freshman and lived in the next suite down on the ninth floor of Morrison. By this time we’d been dating for most of the past school year. (Sentimental point: Like all of my exs whom I’ve loved, she will always hold a very special place in my heart.) I was a sophomore but, more germane to this tale, was a bit older due to my years before the mast in the service of our nation.

This trip was the first time I would be spending the night under her parent’s roof.

We arrived at her parents home on a Friday evening, said “Hello, how’re you doing?” had dinner and relaxed with Mom and Dad. Although this was my first overnight stay, it wasn’t the first time I’d met Mom and Dad. That had happened the previous October. She and I and her roommate (now one of my dearest and most cherished friends), stopped by for lunch during a trip to see the autumn leaves along the Blue Ridge Parkway. The high point of this very special lunch came right at the end when Dad said, “Hey Foggy, c’mere and let me show you something.”

I followed Dad down into the basement where he walked over to a cabinet in the corner, opened it and said, “What’d you think?”

Yeah, I got showed the gun collection. He might as well have said, “I’ve got a .45 and a shovel, you won’t be missed.” Anyway, Dad was a nice guy and if I ever have a daughter you can bet I’ll do the same thing the first time her beaus come a calling. The one thing teenage boys never remember is their girlfriend's father was once himself a teenage boy, with all of the same thoughts and desires whirling around his sexually overcharged brain.

But back to the story at hand.

For most of us I’m sure this is a familiar situation: You’re visiting your college girlfriend or boyfriend’s house and Mom and Dad separate you and put at least one of you in the bedroom right next to theirs. It doesn't matter whose Mom and Dad, they all do it in my experience. My own mother once put Meg in the room next to her's, not even trusting her own son. Well, this was the situation facing Meg and I and, despite my time in the Marines, there was no way on God’s green earth I was going sneak into my girlfriend’s bedroom while Dad had the keys to gun cabinet on his nightstand.

So we suffered, alone and apart from one another for an evening. Truth be told, I probably slept pretty well considering I wasn’t sharing a twin bed.

Morning arrives, breakfast is served, the purpose for the trip (which absolutely escapes me now) is completed, lunch is eaten, bags are packed and loaded up, hugs and kisses for her, handshakes for me and we’re off, back to the beauty that was and still is Chapel Hill, North Carolina.

That three-hour drive back to campus was one of the longest journeys of my life, and that’s coming from a guy who’s driven solo from Pittsburgh to Jackson, Miss., in 16 hours. If you’re interested, it was and is a personal best of 1,010 miles in a single day.

We were so horny I swear to the Sweet Baby Jesus we almost stopped to get a hotel room for an hour. But, being poor college students, we endured the pain.

Back at the 10-storey, 1,000-student behemoth called Morrison Residence Hall our desperate heroes raced inside, up to my room (because my roommate was gone somewhere that weekend too) and into the loft for some frenetic, but sweet, sweet lovin’. (Sorry, had to take a moment there and reminisce. OK, all done, I’m back.)

Later, after our lusts were sated, we were lounging partially dressed in a post-boink euphoria when a noise suddenly and unexpectedly drew both of our eyes to the door. You could almost hear the eyeballs snap.

The knob was turning. In our haste to get nekid with each other, we'd neglected to lock the door.

I knew it wasn’t my roommate, I knew that for sure. Why you ask? Well, I hadn’t heard our traditional signal: a hand dragged across the window AC unit.

The door opened and my friend John walked nonchalantly into the room. This is my friend John (mentioned in this post, he was one of the two people making out on the elevator) who’s personal dating strategy was “hit on everyone and if you succeed 10 percent of the time you’re still getting laid a lot.” He did and he did.

As John reached the center of the room, he took a deep, lung-filling theatrical breath testing the air. He looked at Meg and turned to look at me and, with a raised eyebrow and a smile, posed a simple question.

“Who’s been fuckin’?”


Connie said...

With friends like that...

FoggyDew said...

Connie - John was definitely a keeper.

LiLu said...

In the words of Super Troopers...

"It stinks like sex in here!"

And after last weekend, I can attest Chapel Thrill is as beautiful as ever.

Liebchen said...

Haha. I have a couple friends who probably would have pulled the same question as John.

Bet you remembered to lock the door after that, no? (I know I did.)

Lemmonex said...

Don (dad) meets new guys, looks at them and says "I already fucking hate you".

Charming...and explains a lot about me.

FoggyDew said...

LiLu - It's funny, you don't consciously notice it during the lovin' although it's a big part. But afterwards? There's no covering it up.

Liebchen - John was a true original. As for locking the door, well there might have been one other forgetful event...

FoggyDew said...

Lemmy - Your dad rocks. You're his little girl, it's his right. Can't imagine what my brother's life is going to be like with three little girls (although his son will probably score at will).

restaurant refugee said...

I think we all have that friend... or have been that friend.

FoggyDew said...

Ref - What're friends for? If you can't fuck with your friends, what's the use in having them?

Shannon said...

Since I knew every person mentioned in this story, I'm going to stay very quiet, over here in a corner, rocking back and forth, chewing on my own hair.

Zipcode said...

now thats funny - I thought this story was going to lead to dad catching you guys bumping uglies.

FoggyDew said...

Shannon - In deference to you, the one person who, in your own words "Knew every person mentioned in this story," I did self edit and try to make it cute. Did I every tell you Meg eventually married another guy named...Foggy? Yep.

Zip - The secret to a good college sexual high jinx story? Misdirection my friend, misdirection.

Shannon said...

That was the CUTE version?

FoggyDew said...

Shannon - Cute as I could make it. Cute as in not extraordinarily graphic in its descriptions. Cute as in, well, c'mon, that was a funny line.

Malnurtured Snay said...

I think Sarah Palin running for President in four years is going to be provide more amusement and humor than all of the movies and music and EVERYTHING else combined in the entirety of the 21st century.

Yes, also: the guns would scare me off too. Someone once told me that daughters are God's punishment for men having been boys.

JoLee said...

"Later, after our lusts were sated, we were lounging partially dressed in a post-boink euphoria..."
never has college boinking sounded so pretty

FoggyDew said...

Snay - There is a definite possibility for comedy in a Palin bid. Also, my brother must have done some very bad things, he has three daughters.

JoLee - Why thank you. I worked very hard on that very sentence. Also, I really like the word "boink." It's just fun to type and say.