College is a strange and beautiful time in most people’s lives. You experience rare and magical moments, you meet fascinating people, you learn interesting new things about yourself, and you spend a tremendous amount of time just fucking around.

Basically, college is a four year pass to pursue any whim, and then a ‘get out of jail free’ card to renege on any behaviors by chalking it up to ‘hey, I was in college and experimenting’.

I’m a straight guy. Always have been. Always will be. But for one night during my junior year of undergrad, I tasted cock. And I fucking loved it.

I had been to one of those all-night blast-out keggers. It was the type you’d expect to have been thrown by a frat house, but Greek-life and I gelled about as well as oil and water, so I stayed clear of those sorts of suarees. Rather, I clung to the art and theatre kids. Next to the fraternities, they threw the biggest parties, and theirs were always far more entertaining. I mean, seriously, a couple hundred drunken, stoned actors and artists are gonna come up with some far more creative ways to burn away the night than some thick-neck frat boys.

Myself, I was an anomaly. A business major. But, I was a business major who dealt pot and played the banjo. So it wasn’t a huge stretch for me to slip in with the hippy types. They loved me. I was the guy that facilitated their favorite ‘recreational’ activity, so it wasn’t like they’d pass judgment. Besides, learning the ins and outs of supply and demand in microeconomics 201 went a long way toward helping me determine fair market value for a dime bag.

So, one evening, my best friend Mike and I headed out to one of the aforementioned theatre parties. It was standard fair. A few topless chicks running around in body paint. A couple of guys juggling flaming torches in the street in front of the house. A few kids wrestling in a kiddie pool on the front lawn. And a whole slew of 18 to 24 year olds mingling about, gripping red plastic party cups, and turning the cool, calm night air into a low rumble of blended dialogue and symphonic laughter.

Mike got wind of the party by running his sources through the theatre department social checklist. He was gunning hard for a mynxy blonde named Katherine who played the lead in the University’s summer production of “The Miss Firecracker Contest”. It was her exposition during the mock swimsuit competition of the play that hooked the poor boy. Mike was a sucker for girls who could stand with their knees together but show a gap of light at the crotch because their thighs were too lean to touch.

So as soon as we made it to the front door, Mike launched into search and conquer mode and abandoned me. It didn’t matter though. Dave and Walt were both there. They were roommates who lived two apartments down from Mike and me, so I clung to them until I had enough cups from the keg to get me acclimated to the environment.

And that came quickly, given that we supplemented our Miller Light with a few shots each from the bottle of cheap vodka Dave had brought along. An hour in, the three of us were pretty hammered. Dave was lured away by a chubby dancer calling herself ‘Alluria’ or some equally pretentious such shit.