Getting Jumped in England and the free healthcare that followed

Preface:
Normally I don't like telling stories about fights because they seldom go anywhere and the stories almost always turn into sad exaggerations. Besides, I don't exactly pride myself on being a "ruffian," but I share this story because it has elements of a different culture and a free healthcare system.
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After months of chasing down different people in the study abroad office and wrangling professors to write me letters of recommendation, I finally got accepted to the University of Leicester's exchange program in the United Kingdom (UK). I hadn't really made time for expectations or formulated what it might be like because I really had little in the way of a frame of reference. I was just really excited to live in Europe for a little while.

The University of Leicester turned out to be more laid back than I had anticipated in regards to the minimal amount of school work coupled with the encouragement of the party atmosphere. This University took a very open minded stance to "partying" and it preferred to host big parties on campus parties where it could charge for entry tickets and alcohol in order to raise extra money for who-knows-what. It was just like any spacious club you might attend in a college town, but it was located at your university. There was always a good girl to guy ratio at these things and the drinks were usually reasonably priced. So if it was done properly, you could get black out drunk and potentially bring someone back to your dorm to call it an "eventful night." This was such a strange concept to me coming from a school that had so many policies that were so counter to this type of behavior.

I'd managed to make some pretty good friends within the first couple of weeks and so every night out was made better for having crazy characters with outlandish personalities changing the night's outcome with insane wild ideas.

When it finally came time to get home after these big club-style on-campus parties, the school always encouraged the students to take cabs back home or use their "drunk shuttle." Seeing as our dorms were almost two miles from the center of campus and the bars were even further; walking the two miles alone and drunk back to the dorms was considered dangerous. The school made an extra effort to keep students off the streets after drinking by sharing stories of common muggings and stabbing during orientation every year. Overall, the act of walking home at night was viewed as reckless and an unnecessary risk.

On one particular night out on campus I had gotten pretty hammered. I had stayed much later past last call trying to hit on a few random girls and I had lost my group of friends. I was standing alone by the line for cabs trying to locate any face that looked remotely familiar so I'd have a group to ride with and split the cost of the 8£ (about $16) cab ride back to the dorms. There were very few people left and things looked bleak.

"Taylor!" I heard someone yell from behind me. "What the fuck are you doing?"

I turned around and recognized two smaller stature guys standing a few yards away in the grass eating cheeseburgers. These two lived in the adjacent dorm in my complex.

"We're going home, you want to come with?" One of them asked.

"I can't find anyone I know out here, are you guys waiting for the drunk bus or ready to catch a cab?" I asked getting closer.

"Nah mate, we spent everything we had at the bars and on these burgers." The other said holding up his nearly finished burger, "We're walking."

"Damnit, isn't that like really far?" I asked looking around for other people I knew.

"No way, it's like 20 minutes walking." One of them said finishing the last bite of his burger.

"I've done it faster than that." The other said.

It would seem I didn't really have much of a choice. "Alright, fuck it." I said gesturing towards the sidewalk.

And we were off. We walked down the empty streets of Leicester headed towards our dorms passing quiet neighborhoods and unlit houses. We laughed and joked most of the way about the girls we almost kissed, the drinks we'd ordered, and the dance floor shenanigans that led each of us ending up where we were. All things considered we were all in a pretty good mood despite having to walk back.

It might go without saying, but I'm known for being loud when I've had a few cocktails, my voice just has a tendency to carry. Most Americans by comparison to many cultures can often be considered a noisy bunch. That particular night no was exception, I was in the midst of loudly telling the guys about one of the girls that lived in our complex when we heard someone yell from far behind us, "Oy! Fuck Americans!"

I laughed and turned. And so did the two guys who were walking with me. About two blocks behind us was a group of seven guys clearly trying to stir up trouble at a late night hour.

Not to be out done, I yelled back, "I'm visiting your country! I kind of feel the same way!"

Our group of guys laughed and started to continue my story when moments later we heard, "Fuck George Bush."

"I didn't vote him! Twice!" I turned and yelled walking backwards.

These guys had gained some ground on us and were only about a block away. They were close enough that I didn't recognize any of them. They looked to be local "Chavs." The american equivalent to a Chav is a "wigger." For those of you that remember the Ali G show with Sasha Barren Cohen, these guys were his main character Ali G. Short hair with track suits and sneakers on. Think of soccer hooligans.

They were trying to get a rise out of me, "faggot!" One of them yelled out.

"Fucking pussy American!"

"A creative bunch we've got here, we've got those insults back home too!" I yelled out.

Although I was annoyed that these guys were following me and clearly trying to start something, I decided to let it slide. We were only a quarter mile from the dorms, I'd assumed these clowns would stop following us when they realized that we were pretty much home after we turned the corner.

"Fuck the troops in Iraq!" One of them called out.

I stopped and turned around. They were practically on top of us, less than fifteen feet away. I was tired of this stupid cat and mouse game. "Who's got the big mouth, huh?!"

I started walking towards them as my other two friends stopped and watched, "You've crossed the line on that one. Your country has got guys over there too, I've got good friends over there right now, who's got the big fucking mouth."

Prior to coming to England I lived in a Fraternity house with two guys that were in the army reserves. Outside of that, I had friends from college and otherwise that were also serving long tours in Iraq and Afghanistan. This was just one of those things that you did't say. I didn't care who it was coming from; this was a matter of principle.

They stopped perusing as I walked up to the guy in front of the group. There were seven of them roughly all the same size as me. I stood a foot away from the one in the front, "You seem to have an awful lot to say when I'm walking away from you. I got buddies over there. Who the fuck do you think you-"

In a flash before I could even react, one of the guys threw a hard sucker-punch right into my upper lip. My head flew back as my feet left the ground; my body sailed backwards.




I liken it to the scene in snatch where the world changes speed as I went practically parallel with ground. My shoulders were the first thing to catch the pavement. I hadn't done anything to instigate any of this. I was enraged. I sprung to my feet and dash up to the guy that slugged me. I side stepped one of them to catch and lift the one that sucker punched me by his throat. I jammed my other arm in his arm pit and push upwards then brought him down hard on his back still holding his neck with an iron grip. I pulled back my left fist and stared hard into his eyes, "Apologize to me!" I yelled out.

Big mistake.

I guess I hadn't taken into account that there were six of his friends standing in front of me. A swift kick between the eyes breaks my nose and puts me back on the ground. I heard a loud crack as soon as it hit, so I was sure something was broken. My adrenaline kicks in. From that point on it's seven on one. I'd get one or two hits in before catching a swarm of stiff shots to the face and body; losing my balance then ending up on the ground. One guy tried to tackle me around the waist and I sent an elbow into the back of his head and a hard jab to his ribs to break free. Shortly thereafter, I'd square up with one guy and get punched in the stomach and face by two others and eventually end up on the ground again. And so it went for a few minutes, I'd get back up and connect with a few more punches before a string of kicks and jabs to the face would take me off my feet once more. The two British kids kept pulling guys off of me so I could at least get back on my feet when I kept getting knocked down. By now blood coming from different places on my face. The deep cut in my nose was getting into my eyes and I could barely see; while I kept spitting out blood from my busted lip. I kept squaring off and taking punches until the two guys I was with managed to separate me for long enough for me to catch my breath. Nearby, someone stepped outside of their house and announced that they had already called the police. The Chavs ran one direction and we set off in the other. Luckily we were only about a two minutes away.

"Dammit boys." I said catching my breath. "That didn't go as well as I'd planned." I said laughing spitting blood onto the sidewalk.

The two British guys erupted in laughter. "Mate, who picks a fight with that many guys?"

I tried to clear some of the blood dripping down my face with my shirt. "A fucking idiot, that's who."

More laughs.

The two British guys were a riot. By the time we got back we were all doing impressions of each other during the fight and laughing about the whole thing. I got back into the main gates of our dorm and one of my buddies saw my face.

He recoiled in horror, "Holyshit! Taylor! Are you alright?" He took out his phone and called a few of our other close friends.

"Yeah man, thanks for taking a cab with me. Turns out this whole walking thing is over rated." I said rolling my eyes and giving the two guys I was with a goofy look.

"I'm calling an ambulance. You're not ok." He said dialing the emergency services number.

"I just need to fucking sit down and have a drink." I walked over to our dorms and lit up a cigarette. Someone brought me a couple of beers.


I told the story of being followed to the guys and a few of the girls that had now gathered outside of the dorms. I began to take a total inspection of what had just happened to me. My hands and arms were covered in blood, mostly from wiping away blood from my nose and mouth. As the adrenaline began to wear off, I started to feel a very serious headache coming on. It felt like someone was standing on my face. I was sill somewhat dizzy and wasn't sure if it was from the fight or all the drinks leading up to the brawl. After I finished my first beer, I got up and took a look at myself in the bathroom. I could hardly recognize my own face, "maybe an ambulance wasn't such a bad idea." I said out loud inspecting my swollen eyes, teeth (unbroken), nose, and chin.

A few moments later the paramedics arrived and asked me to sit down in their ambulance. I drank another beer while they cleaned my face off and looked me over. They put a band-aid on the cut across the bridge of my broken nose and told me to be more careful. They never asked me questions that you might ask someone with a concussion or inspected my nose to see if it was broken. They drove off shortly after I stepped out of the ambulance and just as the police were getting there.

The male and female cop walked me back to the bench in front of my dorm. The male cop pulled out a note pad and flipped to a blank page, "Want to tell us what happened ya?"

I took another swig of beer, "I fell down an anti-American staircase."

The two of them and the friends sitting around us erupted in laughter.

"No really, why don't you give us an idea of who done this to ya." the blond lady cop said with a pleasant smile.

"Well this staircase followed us back from campus. Even if I could remember what this staircase looked like, I wouldn't be able to tell you where it could be found." I said shrugging sadly.

The male cop flipped is note book close, "you're a tough lad, but if I were you, I'd avoid walking back from campus from now on eh?"

I nodded and laughed a little, "I think you've got a deal."

We took a few pictures and the cops went on their way.


After I finished my last beer, I went back inside to inspect my wounds more thoroughly. The skin on the bridge of my nose had a deep split and everything about my nose was shifted leftwards. I had bruises all over my ribs and most of the blood vessels in my forehead and face had burst.

I knew that it was possible I could have a concussion and if I didn't get the slice on my nose properly treated I'd have a big scar across my face. I needed to get to hospital and see someone who would do more than a band-aid.

I called up what is basically the "residence adviser" and asked him if he would take me to the hospital to see a doctor. He had clearly been sleeping and declined to take any action seeing how an ambulance showed up and said I was fine. This meant I was pretty much on my own. I called up one of the girls I'd been seeing and asked her to come join me as I didn't want to be left alone and possibly fall asleep with any type of concussion. While she was on her way over I decided to call my dad. It was around 8:00 AM on The east coast and I didn't see a problem with getting his advice.

He was surprised to hear from me but went into a fit of rage when he found out I had been beat up by a bunch of guys and had not gone to the hospital right away. He got even more furious when I told him the resident adviser had told me to go to "deal with it." My dad's exact words were, "get that little twit of an RA on the phone right now and tell him he's going to take me to the hospital himself otherwise he's got a serious legal problem on his hands and a future ass whooping too."

I put on my best no-nosense voice once he picked up and I launched into a rant about his job and my predicament. I might have been a bit of harder on him than I should of been. In colorful american English, I explained that people from his country had beat me up purely based on the fact that I was from somewhere else. I told him to get his lazy ass out of bed and bring me to the hospital if he wanted to keep his job.

A few minutes later he showed up, drunk. He handed me 10£ and said the cab was on its way and promptly turned around to head back to his dorm. The girl I had been on the phone with minutes earlier showed up and agreed to stay with me while I went to the hospital to be looked over. I was going to see what free healthcare looked like first hand.

Why it's free

The cab dropped us off right out front and we walked into a somewhat empty emergency room. Not too dissimilar to what we're accustomed to in the United States; clean floors, white walls, and a antiseptic smell in the air. We walked to the front of the waiting room and approached the woman at the front desk. I explained what happened and she handed me a clip board to fill out paperwork pertaining to our visit. I went back up to the lady at the front desk and handed her my clipboard and asked, "Where I could get some ice? My face is hurting pretty bad and I think it might help with the swelling."

She puts on a big grin and looks at me and the girl I'm with then spins around in her chair and yells to some of the women working behind her, "He wants ice!"

They all burst into laughter. And a few of them even repeat it while laughing harder. The girl I'm with looks more confused than me.

Nearly wiping away tears from laughing so hard the nurse behind the window points towards the open seating area, "You can sit down over there love, we'll call your name. Cheers."

I wasn't sure what I was expecting, but this wasn't it. I walked back with the girl I'd brought and sat down utterly confused while I continued to hear people around me and other nurses laugh at my expense over asking for "some ice" in an emergency room. My female who was sober but tired didn't seem to get the joke either, but we took it as a strange cultural thing and let it go.

After an hour or so my name was eventually my name was called. By then my face was quite swollen and the pain coming from my nose was a constant throbbing stemming from my nose outwards. A nurse brought me to a smaller room to take my vitals while explained what happened. Then another nurse brought me to big open poorly lit room with sheets for walls. She sat me down asked me yet again what happened. This was the third time I'd explained what happened to me and it was getting redundant. But I recapped the story again out of courtesy and then said "I told the first three ladies the same thing, are you taking notes?"

She smiled, "a doctor will see you shortly love."

I started to text dirty and playful things to the girl that had come with me that was now stuck in the waiting room bored to tears. Ten minutes later and I was mid-text through something really dirty when a young Indian doctor came to see me. He introduced himself, we shook hands, "Now what are you here for?" he asked looking me up and down.

I looked at him as if he was kidding but he didn't seem to understand my facial expression. Possibly because my eyebrows were so swollen it just looked like I was in a perpetual state of confusion.

I told him about the fight then explained that I wanted to see something further done than a band-aide on my nose, "I know that when I did sports when I was a little younger, any type of laceration or significant break in the face requires immediate attention in order to avoid visible facial scars. I'd like to see some type of plastic surgeon for the slice on my nose and maybe some sort specialist to evaluate me for any type of other head or internal injuries I might have." I said lifting my shirt and exposing the bright red and small blotted violet bruises forming on my ribs.

The doctor let out a big sigh and opened a drawer nearby. He pulled out a large pill and handed it to me. "This will help you with the pain. I'll send someone over in a minute."

I didn't dare ask about water as my last reaction to asking about water's solid form seem to be comedy gold.

A female nurse , came in a moment later. She never introduced herself or said what she was doing. "You alright?" She said putting on surgical gloves (that phrase, "you alright" mean's "what's up" in the UK).

She asked me to lean back and I did. I watched her pull out a tube of something from a desk drawer.

"Alright love, this will sting for a second." She squirted a substance that burned like hell into the cut and held it, "hold still for 15-20 seconds."

She took her hands off my face and patted my shoulder, "alright ya, don't blow your nose hard for a few weeks and keep out of fights for bit."

"Wait What?!" I exclaimed watching her take off the gloves. "That's it!? You guys put superglue on my nose and send me off? "

I reached up for my face and she gently grabbed my hand. "Don't touch it for a while," she said unphased by anything I'd just said.

I was stunned.

"On your way," She said pointing back the way I had come. "The waiting room is just through that door back there on your left." She said turning and walking away.

I walked back into the waiting room and told my female friend the extent of their "services" to which she laughed hysterically and pointed at my face. We eventually got a cab ride back home that night and I finally got to sleep off that long evening. The next day I was visited by the director of housing for my set of blocks and he expressed his sympathy's for what had happened. Seeing as my eyebrows were so swollen I looked permanently confused, so he probably felt compelled to ask less questions and leave it alone. I finally got an appointment with the on campus clinic to reset my broken nose, which required someone to pretty much place both thumbs on the bridge of my nose and push until it seems re-aligned. After it was all said and done, I came away with valuable lessons about wondering anywhere drunk after bars close, physically challenging groups that contain higher numbers than my own, and what free healthcare looks like.

Thirsty Thursday

During the days of fraternity house livin' and the "today doesn't have any consequences on tomorrows outcome" we used to regularly host a gathering of people at my house for drinking and debauchery called "Thirsty Thursday."

The idea behind thirsty Thursday was multifaceted. These weekly occurrences allowed for new "prospects" (girls) to come hang out at the house in a smaller less ruckus driven fashion. Which was great, let's say you met someone new Monday through Thursday around campus and they already had plans for the weekend, then you could defer to inviting them out to Thirsty Thursday and their weekend plans would remain unaffected. This meant often times that you would invite multiple prospects out and then it came down to a matter choice rather than a hunt. The different options also meant that there was nearly always an amazing girl to guy ratio. Much of the magic of these evenings also lay in the timing. Most people were exhausted and stressed out from a week of classes and fully ready to blow off some steam by Thursday night. This meant that you got to hang out with people at the height of their week and some might even say these people were pre-disposed to get into mischief. As you would imagine, some of these Thursdays were the best nights of my life.

On this particular thirsty Thursday during the early part of my Sophomore year, things had gotten off to a great start. I had a handful of girls in attendance that I had personally invited and one girl I had spent nearly half my freshman year flirting said she might be coming. In the past whenever I invited this girl to any of our events she'd always decline and claim to be dating someone or have other plans that night. Come to think of it, I'd spent far too much time chasing this girl for it to have gone no where, for so long.

I was in full working the room fervor by 11:00 and a lot of my time revolved around slapping hands with guys I hadn't seen since the week before or flirting with a couple of groups of girls in different parts of the house. During this part of my life, I truly was the epitome of a "bro" or "frat boy." I'll absolutely admit it, the social status along with the reverence to my "fraternal ideals" seemed to be the only thing of any importance. Every experience and encounter during that time was new and therefore exciting. Someone had flipped me the keys to a new life. It was like being the biggest nerd and suddenly stepping into the most popular kid's skin who was far better looking, more confident, and immensely more popular than you could ever hope to be and the voice in your head says, "take this thing for a ride, enjoy it."

After grabbing another beer, I began working my way back to the kitchen when she walked in. Her name was Kali, she was a Sorority snob with a bit of southern class. Her body was curvy, she had long straightened blond hair, and gorgeous light blue eyes. She stepped into the the Kitchen from the porch and my eyes fixed on her. She was wearing a short jean-skirt with a low cut top under a little mid-drift length black jacket. I think I stiff armed one of my friends just to be the first to meet her in the middle of the kitchen.

"Kali hey! Glad you could make it," I said walking over with my arms spread outwards for a big hug.

"Oh my god! Hey Taylor!" She screamed as she leapt on to me grappling around my waist and torso nearly knocking me off my feet.

"Wow, how's it going stranger?" I asked laughing spilling beer on the back of her jacket and on the floor around us.

"So good, I'm great. It's been so long since we've hung out!" She said lowering her feet to the ground and running her hands down my arms.

"I know!" I said trying to meet her level of excitement realizing that she'd already had a couple of drinks prior to getting there.

"My friends started pre-gaming without me and then they decided to go somewhere else instead, lame right?" She said putting her hands on her hips.

"That's fantastic," I said laughing and directing her into the living room/beer pong room.

Soon we were playing beerpong together while we caught up on all the things that were current in her life. She had recently broken up with her boyfriend and was pissed at all men (except for me of course). She was excited about the semester as she had just changed majors from Marketing to communications and I'm pretty sure her favorite flavor of ice cream was cookie dough. I've had more engaging conversations with a fucking broom stick, but she laughed at all my jokes and I didn't care about her brain. In those days that's what mattered, the idea of having the attention of the hot girl in the room was enough for me. The second game had turned very touchy feeling on our side of the table. I'd put my hands on her hips to move to the other side of her while she pinched my hips from time to time when I'd miss. I was shooting like shit on purpose to get off the table, even then I knew I couldn't very well get anywhere with a girl if all I was doing was flicking a ping-pong ball across a table into a cup. Eventually the other team finally sunk the last cup and I was "free to move about the cabin."

"Would you like to take a shot in my room?" I asked with a smile reeking of self confidence as I finished the last sip of beer in my cup.

"Definitely!" She shrieked and giggled as she followed me into my room.

My room was just down the hallway from most of the furthest reaches of the party, a lot of the yelling and other noises were drown out and with music looping on my computer in the background. I had taken a sub-conscious mental note from all the over-the-top cheesy male seducers I'd seen on television and in the movies. As if the spirit of Giacomo Casanova or Don Juan had personally overseen all of the amenities I'd taken care to set up like soft comfy couches, rope lights that gave the room a red hue, lit scentened candles, and of course- chilled bottles of liquor. As if this whole set up would leave women defenseless to my charms. I pulled a bottle of jager out of my mini fridge, slapped a couple of shot glasses on my desk, and cracked open a soda for a chaser as I poured the shots. She started kissing my neck as I finished pouring the second shot.

"It's awfully nice of you to visit, Kali. It's taken way too long." I said handing her a shot and picking up my own.

"I'm glad you invited me, cheers" she said clinking the two glasses together and spilling half of hers on my floor.

I knocked my shot of jager back and tossed my shot glass back on the desk and went in for a kiss.

She wrapped her arms around my neck and kissed me back. We rocked slowly back and forth as I put my hands around her lower hips. I got a hold of her jean skirt and slid it upwards so it was now around her torso. She had a fantastic ass and I felt like I was now going to be one of the privileged few in the world that would get see it! This was my discovery of El Dorado. I couldn't believe my luck, in my head I was doing back-flips like I had just won the lottery. Was all of this happening to me?! If I had met Niel Armstrong at that moment and he attempted to tell me about the moon landing I'd pipe up and say, "fuck the moon dude, I just got this girl's jean shirt above her waist."

She slowly pulled off my shirt and kissed my ear as I scrambled to pull hers over her head too. We made our way over to my bed where she jumped on top of me. She undid my belt and ripped off my jeans then practically tore my underwear off my legs. I couldn't tell you how thrilled I was, this was something that was months in the making and everything was playing out beyond my expectations. If someone had told me earlier in the night that this was going to happen, I likely would'nt have believed a word of it.

Her long blond hair hit my lower stomach as she went to work sucking me off. It wasn't the greatest bj but at that time it didn't have to be, I was hooking up with a hot sorority girl with shit for brains. This was a girl I had idolized for a number of months and she was giving me her undivided attention. She was a big fan of attempting to deep throat which isn't a bad thing, but it often gets me out of a regular rhythm because of accident gnashing of teeth. On the plus side, deep throating produced a more saliva-laden bj, which I'm a big fan of. So I kicked back, closed my eyes, and put a smile on my face. We were about five minutes into the act and I was in heaven as she continued quite rigorously.

"Enjoy this." I thought to myself.

"Haahck!" I heard from below my waist as I felt more saliva than normal now between my legs.

She kept going.

A few seconds later it felt like I was sitting on a puddle so shifted my weight a little and reached down under my butt to feel what exactly I was now sitting on and my fingers hit something less viscous than spit and more chunky in nature. I pulled my hand out to look at it in the dim candle light, my fingers were covered in brown and yellowish bits of food.

"Did you just throw up on my dick?" I asked looking down at her and then back at my hand again.

"Well if you didn't take so long!" She yelled getting up wiping off her mouth with her forearm clearly embarrassed.

"Well I hardly think that's my fault?" I said again looking up at my hand frozen like a witch doctors monkey claw.

She quickly put on her shirt, "GoH! Just forget it!" She yelled storming out and slamming my door.

I was stunned and didn't really know if I had said the wrong thing. I was just observing, that's all. It all happen so fast. I didn't think she'd run away. I scooted back on my bed and saw a softball size puddle of vomit laying on top of my blue cotton comforter. I sat there for a minute looking at my hand, genitals, and bed covered in slime and vomit and I started to laugh, "Fucking kidding me? How the hell does this to happen."

I sideways flipped out of my bed and used one hand to pull the blanket off and threw it in the corner to be dealt with later. I wrapped a towel around my waist and then slipped out of my door and quickly jumped in the shower.

After my quick rinse, I got dressed again and was back out in the mix of a full blown thirsty Thursday with nearly a hundred running around only a short moment later. I did two laps around the middle level trying to find her, I wasn't sure what I was going to say, but I thought it was probably in poor taste to leave it the way we did. I couldn't find her. She must have been so embarrassed that she had gone out the front door, walked all the way down our long driveway, and waited for a ride by the street.

As I was about to make my third lap a random cute girl grabbed my arm and stopped me, "Hey! Do you live here? This house is awesome! Do you know where we could get some shots?"

I took a look around the party and then back at the girl. A big smile appeared across my face, "I've actually got a couple different types of liquor in my room just down the hall here."

The cute girl and her equally pretty Asian friend walked with me arm-in-arm back to my room and my Kari problem seemed to melt away. The miracles of college.

Kari and I never hung out again after that night. Even though whenever I saw her around campus, I'd wave and sometimes wink. The following year she gained a lot of weight and that would put an end to any attraction I once had for a girl that gave vomit blow jobs named Kari.

Don't shit where you eat

There's an american proverb or anecdote that instantly conveys a strong message via it's simplicity and blunt nature when it hits your ears, "don't shit where you eat." It's simple and direct. A few variations of this phrase are, "Don't shit where you sit," "Don't shit on your own doorstep," and probably the most euphemistic example, "Don't be sick in one's own hat." Generally these are all fancy ways to say don't make problems for yourself in places you frequent.

This is the story of how I ended up having sex with one of my female room mates which eventually lead to me having to find a new living situation. This story requires a bit of back information, to understand completely; bear with me.

When I first moved out to San Diego, Ca I only knew a handful of people. The whole concept of the trip was to expand my horizons (literally), learn more about other people/myself, and discover what else life has to offer. I realized if I wasn't going to take such a big chance now, then I'd likely never do it later.

Prior to making my move I needed to set up my living arrangements. I made the mistake of moving in with a young guy I found off of craigslist. He lied to me in our back and forth correspondence prior to my moving in. This guy didn't have a life and his entire existence was unimaginably plain. Work, sleep, video games, girlfriend, in that order.

I told him I was looking for someone to show me the area, I wanted to room with someone that would be up for hitting the bar scene with me on the weekends. Since I didn't know anyone there I explained that I would need some major assistance in expanding my social/professional network. He said he worked hard during the week but loved hitting the bars with tons of friends around the area on the weekends. In truth, this kid didn't have any friends His only "friends" were co-workers at the enterprise rent-a-car. And he never went to bars because he thought they were a waste of money.

He claimed that his "hot" girl friend had tons of hot friends and it wouldn't be a problem to pair me up with one of them to hit the town regularly. In reality, She only came over to watch him play video games... and fight. She never spoke more than a few words to me at a any given time. I never met her friends.

He said there were hot young female neighbors that were "awesome" and they had a reputation to "fuck everybody." Apparently they would be a ton of fun to party with. The first week I moved in, I heard the people living in house in front of us were having people over. I stopped by with a 30 rack of bud-light and a handle of Jack Daniels and said, "Hey I'm Chris' new room mate, we live in the condo right behind you all. I haven't had a chance to meet any of you guys yet. I just moved here from Virginia a few days ago and I don't know anyone in the area yet. I brought some alcohol, can I join you guys?"

You would have thought I said, "I'm going to be preforming an abortion in your back yard do you guys want to watch." Looking around the room, all I spotted were pudgy trashy looking girls with muffin tops. Awkward stares and a long silence were eventually stifled by one girl saying, "Um, we're pre-gaming right now. We're not having a party. Thanks." And they closed the door.

Lastly, this guy claimed to be a regular "weekend warrior" and he said that he loved hitting the bars. We went out once together the entire four months I lived with him. He always had an excuse to stay in. The first time he ever tried whiskey was with me (which is just sad at age 22). The kid was a loser, slob, and a major douche-bag. After the first week I knew it was a mistake and I was ready for a change.

When the lease came to an end toward month number four I had already been perusing a the Rooms/shared section of craigslist for months in search of my next place. I ran into all the familiar problems you can expect with meeting strangers and broken toys off of Craigslist. I got to tour bedrooms that smelled like animal kennels, rooms smaller than my current closet, flaky losers (california corn-flakes), halfway houses, and other bizarre freak shows that ultimately lead me to respond to an ad for a room with two girls in a reasonably priced house only five blocks from the beach and one block from the bars. Things were look up.

I exchanged pictures and facebook information prior to meeting up with one of the girls. Eventually one of my future room mates and I set a time and date to meet at a bar so that all parties would be comfortable with "who or what" they would be moving in with. I was pleasant and friendly during our meeting and kept all flirting to minimum. This was the girl I would inevitably sleep with three months later. She was a year younger, not terribly attractive due to the mouth full of crackerjacks she had for teeth, and a slightly frumpy body to boot. In her defense she seemed nice and didn't come off as someone capable of mood swings, just an overall sweet girl. Let's call her Annie.

We signed a lease agreement shortly thereafter and within a week and a half I was all moved into my new place. I actually pictured my life being very similar to the show, "three is company."

Living with girls for just the first few weeks had opened my mind to new ideas about women. Given my previous living situations were dorms, fraternity houses, and home; I suppose I had never imagined myself living with in such close quarters with girls my own age. I hadn't the slightest clue that women were more than capable of being such slobs until this experience. I pictured them decorating the house and making it an immaculate pleasant little place to live in. Instead, I experienced the cold realities of sharing a bathroom with girls that constantly shed long hairs, had poor toilette etiquette (everybody poops, I just don't want to see it), and truly sickening encounters with used feminine products. Not to mention these girls were leeches when it came to everything from toilette paper, to beer, to ice cream.

One of the more interesting observations I regularly viewed with interest was the blasé nature of promiscuity amongst the women between the ages of 21-25 in Southern California. Here's a fun fact, all women will go through a slutty stage. This isn't necessarily a bad thing, it just hadn't sunk in until I saw it regularly first hand. And let's be clear, we all have our own definitions of what a "slut" is. But even the harmless looking ones will prove this point while dragging a fat guy with a goatee and flat brim hat home from the bars, because they can. As you might expect, my room mates vehemently denied that they would ever hook up with random guys they met at bars. This was an effort to curtail any type of suspicions that might lead anyone to think otherwise. But nearly every weekend, I would make my way downstairs for breakfast and watch the gamut of dudes stumble out of the girls respective bedrooms from the night before.
When I pried further and discussed relationships at length with these girls and it really gave me some solid perspective on how things worked. Both of the girls had at least two guys they were regularly "hooking up with" or as they put it, "seeing" while they also were regularly flirting via text a steady four to five additional guys. Much of the text flirting didn't go beyond just that because the girls said they enjoyed the attention and compliments throughout the day. When I asked their friends if they had similar life styles, they all agreed that it was pretty common place. I don't want to say this is staggering but it does give you the ability to position yourself and see these things a bit more clearly.

That being said, it's important to realize that even though a girl might be texting/flirting with you at the moment, she'll likely have 2-3 other guys in rotation doing the same thing to keep her options open and also boost her self esteem. By that same token, there should be ZERO guilt in diversifying your options because rest assured, you're not the only bogey on her radar.

Finally, I came to the conclusion that when most women are made dumber by their choosing to waste an unimaginable amount of time watching mindless shit on TV. It warps their understanding of common sense and forces them to behave like the psychopaths they regularly watch on TV. Although there is something amusing about a television program that actually makes your dumber after watching it. Enough of this rant, I could go on for hours here.


During the first week the other female room mate, Adrienne had made an effort to sleep with me by crawling into my bed after our first "room mates night out" at the bars. We had gotten back to the house late and she claimed that she hadn't set up her bed yet, so she followed me into my room and crawled in my bed. Once there she began making purring noises sliding her legs around. I'm not deaf, blind, and dumb I can pick up on a hint.
Since day one I was determined to keep our living situation platonic; I stuck to my guns. As she kept scooting towards me and making odd noises I continued to mumble things like, "it's not gonna happen," "we'll both regret this," "go to sleep in your own room." She took off her bra and made a few more weak attempts at turning me over until we both fell asleep. I was proud of myself for avoiding what would obviously have been a big mistake.

Three months later, and things were still going quite well. None of us had made any other passes at each other. We all seem to get along quite well and we seldom had any tiffs or quarrels. We even went out during the week nights and on the sometimes on the weekends together. But soon the honeymoon would be coming to an end.

I was working at a larger corporate organization in the area during that time and earlier in the day, the red cross' blood mobile had come to visit our building. Ever since I got guilt tripped into donated blood in college with one of my now deceased veteran buddies, I always donate whenever the opportunity presents itself. One of the little celebrated upsides of donating blood is that you're a very cheap drunk for the next day or so while your body tries to produce more blood to make up for whats been taken out. This means that your alcohol tolerance is lowered significantly; which implies that you can get drunk on practically ten bucks.

Upon arriving back home from work later that day, the girls invited me out with them to hit the bars. We stopped at three differently places within the first two hours and slammed drinks at bottom dollar prices. I was already feeling a heavy buzz after drink number two when started talking to some marines. The girls thought the guys were attractive and I took no issue with facilitating the relationship. I made the introductions and started chatting with one of them and mentioned why I donated blood. This guy felt compelled to buy us a round of shots and I thought it to be rude if I even considered declining. No good deed goes unpunished, so a minute later I showed my appreciation for his gesture by buying a round of shots for our whole group. After a few more shots one of my room mates disappeared leaving me and Annie having a great time, but pretty hammered. At one point I checked my phone and saw it was already late and we both had work the next day.

"It's almost midnight Annie," I said waving down the bartender and signaling the check sign in the air. "We should get out of here."

"Yeah I know, I'll close-out too." She said grabbing her jacket and sliding her arm into the wrong sleeve.

We both thanked the marine guys we drank with and said our good-byes the strangers we met along the way then headed for the doors. We stepped out into the cool Pacific Beach air and headed down the sidewalk towards our house; a short five block walk from the bar.

We walked arm-in-arm loudly joking and laughing obnoxiously about the hysterics that had taken place that evening. As we neared the last few blocks I started up with the sweet/over-the-top drunk talk, "Annie, I'm really glad we live together." I said playfully. "You guys are seriously the best. If you knew how much better I have it now compared with what I first lived with..."

She laughed.

"You and Andrienne have turned out to be so much fun. I guess what I'm trying to say is, I'm really glad we're room mates. You guys are great."

She paused for minute as we walked , "I really like living with you too," she said softly.

A few moments later we stumbled through the front door and we both drunkenly headed to our respective bedrooms upstairs. I shouldered through the door and face planted into my bed and was moments away from passing out when I suddenly heard my door swing open. I looked up to see Annie in my doorway. She walked over to the edge of the bed pulled the covers back and climbed in.

"What are you doing?" I asked a bit confused as she began nuzzle and kiss my neck.

"Shhhhhhh." She said as she started to kiss my cheek and was moving towards my lips.

"Annie, go back to your room. I think it would be a really bad idea if we did this right now."

"No it's fine," She whispered in my ear as she began to rub my chest. "I want you. You're hot."

Laughing at first, "I appreciate that, but I'm too drunk for this and I don't think it's a good idea. Any other night I might show you how play ball but this isn't the time."

I wriggled away and slid all the way to the opposite side of the bed. I put both my feet against her with my back to the wall. I slowly sideways kangaroo-kicked her out of my bed until she slid off the edge of the bed and onto the floor with a thud.

"What the fuck?" She yelled at me from the floor and sitting up.

"Annie, go to bed. This is not a good idea. Maybe another time." I said in a more stern voice.

She pushed herself to her feet. "Fine, you're missing out."

"I'm sure I am. Night hun." I called after her as she stomped out of my room and slammed the door behind her.

Not more than a minute went by and I'd almost fallen asleep. Slam! My door flew open. "Now what?" I yelled frustrated looking upwards and squinting at the silhouette of her figure in the doorway.

I watch Annie roll her underwear down her legs and past her knees to the floor and kicked them to the side. She then unhooked her bra and tossed it beside my bed. Once again she lifted the covers and slid right back into the bed to nestle up next to me. Her hand drifted past my chest and under the waistband of my boxers.

"I'm not a machine here, I'm just a man. I've tried my best here, you're not allowed to be pissed at me for this in the morning." I said looking over at her as she put on the I'm a huge slut smile.

We started to kiss and my hands drifted towards her body. The rest of the night gets a bit hazy. I remember blips, or stills of "erotica." I'll say thins, for a girl with bad teeth she was actually reasonably gifted at oral. I remember turning her around in different positions, legs were extended over shoulders, we were standing then falling, laying sideways while upside down, there might as well have been a back-flip in there as well. My thought process is that if you're going to dare to put on a pair of ski's on my mountain I'm going to send you down the craziest, steepest, unimaginably treacherous slope you've ever even conceptualized. And just like any good ski trip you can count on being a little scared, having fun, and expect to be sore the next day. I'm sure if I watched everything from a third perspective sober I'd probably pee my pants and be in tears laughing.

In the morning I woke to realize I hadn't set my alarm for work and I was still incredibly hammered. I looked around and knew I was in my own bed. My eyes drifted to the clock, it was already 10:00 AM. I was confused and out of sorts, was it Saturday? That's not possible. Was it? I knew I was drunk, that's a start. I started to try and piece together the previous nights events. I sat up and realized I was completely naked. It's like living the movie, momento a pocket of polaroids would sure as shit help me out right now. I took a visual inspection of my room to try to throw together some type of explanation for my current state of affairs. There was a porn website streaming video on my computer, a few candles were barely flickering on my dresser, and there was a puddle of lube all over my desk. I peered over the edge of the bed and spotted a bra and pink thong laying near the door. "AHHH FUCK!" I Yelled out loud. Smacking my palm to my forehead. Instantly my mind began racing over the previous nights events. "Did I really fuck my room mate?!" I groaned.



I jumped out of bed and got to my feet. It's only Thursday and I'm already an hour late for work. I grabbed a towel and threw it around my waist as I stubbed my toe on the door frame stepping into the hallway, "OW Fuck! Annie!" I yelled out hopping on one foot in the hall way. I pushed open Annie's door. she was passed out face down in her bed. "We slept in! Wake up!" I yelled.

She wrenched her head upwards and turned to look at me, with hair matted to her face as I turned and ran to the shower.

I stood there in the shower for a bit trying to bring all the pieces of the previous night's events together with the random images of sex and shots. How did I manage to get so drunk? How did all this happen? Did I really bang out my room mate? I laughed out loud as figured out the chain of events in order all the way back to donating blood in the blood mobile. Somewhat impressed with outdoing myself and that my charitable gesture had turned so devious yet slightly disappointed in my behavior.

Once out of the shower, I dove onto my bed and found my phone. I quickly texted my manager and told him that I was running late due to setting my alarm clock for the wrong time and began throwing on clothes. I passed Annie in the hallway on my way out the door and all I could think to say was, "Hey stranger!"

She looked at me confused as I got out the door walked over to my car still feeling incredibly haggard. I lit up a cigarette and hit the road.

I laughed through half of my commute at how absurd the previous night was and how incredibly awkward my next conversation with Annie was going to be. I simply had to write this one off as an unintended consequence of being really awesome. "Good thing I live with chicks," I said aloud laughing hysterically as I parked at my office.

As I got into my first hour at my desk, I received a text from Annie, "I kind of remember doing stuff with you last night. Can we keep that between the two of us?"

I wrote back, "Well you started it. LOL Sure. Not a problem."

When I got back home, I had already anticipated having "the talk" with Annie and had memorized a few key talking points. But she avoided me awkwardly the rest of that afternoon and by the time the weekend came around she was all but ignoring me so I left it alone. We never addressed it. This was likely my fatal error. Always clear the air on these things as soon as possible, time only complicates situations like this. Well I guess my fatal error would have been hooking up with her in the first place... or drinking after donating blood. Whatever, I had to play the hand I'd been dealt and hope for the best. As you might guess I'm not much of a poker player.

That Friday I had my regular "mo-hawk" girl over and received a death stare from Annie as we marched upstairs to my room. From that point on, things were different between Annie and I. She took offense to me going back to my regular girl just two nights after her and I had one drunken crazy night together. Had I sat down and talked about it with her right away, I think this story may have gone differently. From that point on, Annie took a new hostile attitude towards me. Passive aggressive behavior became the new norm. The other room mate followed suit soon after.

I was no longer invited out to "room-mate nights out" and this would eventually lead to the girls teaming up on me about everything little thing that bothered them. Soon yelling matches over little things began to be a regular occurance. The girls became even less considerate and started knowingly eating my food, drinking my alcohol, and worst of all; opening my door to yell at me about the volume of my music while I was in the act of having sex. It wasn't long before I asked that the three of us sit down and have a rational talk about our current living situation. It was my hope that we could try to fix all the issues and get everything that was bothering us out in the open.

Unfortunately, rational thinking is not one of the things that most girls possess, much less those in Southern California. I laid down ground rules for the meeting (no yelling, person attacks, etc) and explained that we all needed to act as diplomatically as possible to resolve our problems so we could have our more civil living situation. Within a minute, the "meeting" was turned into an aggressive out-pouring of emotion. Annie started yelling at me as if she was one of the star characters of her beloved reality television shows and the other one backed up all of her strange accusations. I could tell she had been saving up all the "zingers" she had learned from watching the dramatics play out on television shows like the Bachelorette and Jersey Shore. The issues being brought up were now completely out of left field. Andrienne jumped in and said she wanted to trade rooms. In reality, it was because mine was slightly bigger and had a balcony, but she tried angle it as a "safety issue." She claimed she felt "less safe" living on the lower level. Her rationale was that she would be more likely to get raped and killed living on the lower level and was losing sleep every night over it. I was in awe of level of crazy we had stepped into. It was clear that neither of them had any desire to work things out and drew more pleasure out of trying to be difficult for the sake of being difficult.

I tried to cool the situation off by maintaining my composure, speaking slowly in an even voice, and focusing on things that we could all agree on. This enraged Annie as she had mistook my tone as condescending. As I struggled to get this thing back on the rail both girls continued making personal attacks at my overall demeanor and lack of principles. After back pedaling and defending myself to these two idiots for a good ten minutes we hadn't gotten anywhere. In fact we had gotten further away from harmonious living than we ever had been before. After a few more attempts to sideline the outrageous demands and low blows, I threw out the idea of moving out. The two girls silently looked at each other and then back at me and nodded, "we think that's the best idea."

"Stupid cunts..." I said to myself. I stood up walked outside and lit up a cigarette.

My dad had taught me a valuable lesson when I was very young. "You can't argue with crazy." There are some people that can be presented with a logical case and all the facts to make the right decision but they choose to defer to their emotions and in the hopes that even though they're wrong, the sought after feeling of vindication (no, I'm right) is more important than the comprise. Or another way to look at it:


Now I'm not sure if my regular "escapades" would have ultimately lead me to end up in the same predicament I later found myself in. But having been through it, I'd rather error on the side of caution and avoid this type of thing altogether. It's best to save yourself from the additional stress and simply abstain from the lures of having fun for one night in exchange for weeks (maybe months) of misery to come. That's right boys and girls, don't shit where you eat... unless you're sure you're not coming back.

...On second thought, I wouldn't have this story to tell if I had followed my own advice. Maybe sometimes it's better to flick matches at a gas can to find out what happens next. Life is short, let your burning bridges light your way ;)