Miranda – This story takes place about 18 months ago. While it does not revolve around dating per say, it’s just too entertaining not to share.
During university, I packed up my life and moved to Denmark for a semester abroad. Before I go on, one thing you should know about me is that although I love having a good time, it is very rare for me to step out of my comfort zone. It would take a substantial amount of alcohol (read as: drowning in alcohol) and a hot foreign boy to get me doing something crazy. Fortunately, in this situation, I had both.
It all started at a club – classy, I know – we were celebrating my friend’s birthday the way we know best. Shortly after we arrived, we began talking to two guys and I found myself attracted to one of them. Long story short, we had a fun time dancing and making out at the club. By the end of the night, I knew I wanted to see him again in a casual context so we exchanged Facebook information. It was a good night and I was content.
Fast forward to a couple weeks later, we’d hung out a few more times and I really enjoyed his company. We knew this wouldn’t go anywhere, as I was leaving for the 6ix very shortly. Our last encounter before we left involved his friend’s house party. Originally, I wasn’t even going to go as I had just returned from a weekend trip to London earlier that day (London was a whole different experience in itself but I’ll write about it another time). However, even as exhausted and gross as I was, I decided to partake and thank god I did, or I wouldn’t be sharing this story right now.
At the house party, the only person I knew there was Mr. Apartment, and although everyone was friendly, we decided that hooking up was a better investment of our limited time instead of superficial socializing. To everyone else’s displeasure, we began to make out intensely on a stranger’s couch until we were asked multiple times to “get a room”. So, we went to do just that.
The only problem was neither of us lived in that apartment complex or even anywhere nearby. In our drunken state, we resolved to explore the complex for some space to, ahem, tend to our needs. Somehow we managed to get randomly buzzed up past security and took the elevator to the top floor. Now, to this day, I have no idea how Mr. Apartment had the skill set, sobriety and comprehension to manage this next part. With a quick swipe of his hand, he somehow opened the locked door to an apartment and my horrified/excited face was met with darkness. In our inebriated state, we decided that the living room would be the perfect place to have some fun. In fact, I should probably change Mr. Apartment’s name to the more accurate Mr. Not Your Apartment, but that’s just unnecessarily long.
Later, I got up to a grab a glass of water from the kitchen and at that moment, a bedroom door opened to reveal a confused, sleepy and angry man. He immediately grabbed the glass from my hand and proceeded to fire questions at us. Mr. Apartment was obviously very inexperienced in breaking and entering and began to answer every single question hopelessly honestly. However, as the decidedly more sober one, I smartened up, took control, and used my soft, seductive voice to apologize and coax the man out of calling the police (as he threatened to do moments before). My voice must’ve been liquid gold because somehow, we were able to leave the premise without so much as a slap on the wrist. The night ended in hilarious banter and analysis of the event that had just passed, and we walked out of the apartment to find the sun coming up. With the remnants of our drunkenness rubbing off, we sought refuge in a nearby McDonalds.
So, as you can see, my experience with Mr. Apartment was pretty incredible. A tale of lust, adventure, immoral decisions and quick thinking that ended in a fairly happily ever after. Definitely not one of those stories you tell your grandchildren though.