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December 21, 2011
Five Stories: New Year's Hookups
Nerve readers find someone to kiss at midnight.
by Nerve readers
On the cusp of 2006, things were getting complicated between me and Pete, my friend-with-benefits. But we were two-thirds of a tight three-person group, and there was a serious party to attend. Bottles of cheap champagne in hand, we trundled down to the party house. Once we got there, we hit the sauce hard, and before long we were holding back the hair of our third party and settling her on a couch to sleep through the arrival of the new year.
It was only 10:30 or so, and the usual binge drinking and carousing continued. As Pete and I huddled on the concrete front steps shouting and giggling with the other smokers, his arm moved from around my back to fully wrapped around me, and soon he was somehow fondling my breast under my sweater and coat, totally concealed from the friends standing directly in front of us.
Soon I had to pee, and headed for the semi-secret upstairs bathroom that belonged to my best friend's boyfriend. Pete followed me upstairs, and when I emerged from the bathroom, he came at me with an unmistakeable sex face. He shut and locked the door behind him, and soon we were making out voraciously (and loudly) against the shower door. Once our faces were semi-numb, we rejoined the party, celebrated the new year double-fisting Cava, and scooped our friend off the couch to leave. We got her into bed and then went back to my place to have weird sex and pass out.
In the morning, our raging awkwardness was interrupted by a text from the woman who, unbeknownst to me, thought she was his girlfriend. He had pocket-dialed her during the shower-door phase of the evening and she thought she was hearing him having sex (with our unconscious friend, no less).
He spent the next hour or two moaning about how she'd never speak to him again, while I and my roommates tried to sound sympathetic. Of course, they made up in a matter of days. He and I stopped having sex years ago, but are still friends. They moved in together last year, but because of that fateful pocket dial, I'm not allowed to visit. Oops.
— Laura
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Commentarium (10 Comments)
Again, I wish these people would be more clear about their genders. I spent half of Eleanor's believing she was a man. Also, the captcha is impossible to read again.
I don't really see the need to know what sex these people are. Knowing a head of time if they are a man or woman doesn't change their stories.
I'd also like to know genders, maybe as part of a subtitle, with age and location as is done on "My First Time." Nerve, your Captcha should have a "refresh" button to get another for those times when even the humans can't read them.
If need to know the author's gender, just scroll to the bottom and read their names before you read the story.
Whoops. "If you need to know..."
What man spends hours in the bathroom line? Almost all of her first paragraph sounded just like it was unmistagingly written by a chick. :l
I've spent up to an hour or more in the bathroom preparing for a date.
Eh it wasn't the gender guessing that bugged me so much, it was more the remorseless infidelity that's killing the mood for me.
Yes! Thank you. Why the hell does the reader need to know whether the writer has a penis? I found the surprise (that the friend Eleanor was visiting in Tokyo wasn't a former lover of the opposite sex) to be a pleasant one. But finding out the author was a bad person (or is at least content to portray herself that way) really put me off.
"celebrated the new year double-fisting Cava"
I can only hope that Cava was a conscious and willing partner to this sex act.