Disclaimer: This article is definitely not based on any real events. The author, after all, is a Biology and Society, not Animal Science, major.
Generic Girl is an Animal Science major, busy with vet school apps, who doesn’t really go out that much because she doesn’t particularly enjoy the sensation of losing hours of one’s life to alcohol-induced blackouts. Generic Boy is in ILR, and dreams of one day becoming a lawyer, but in actuality will probably go into consulting, because who is he kidding, that will be easier and he’ll make more money.
Generic Girl’s friends drag her out to a party one night, saying that she needs to “have more fun” (direct translation, “get drunk more often”). Generic Boy is filling up his beer at the keg in the kitchen. Girl approaches with an empty cup, and he offers to fill it. She agrees, and they make small talk about their hometowns while the beer foams over the top of the cup, because he’s kind of that great at pouring from a keg. She doesn’t care that much, because he’s also kind of cute. And also funny. He asks her to play beer pong with him, and she agrees. They win their first three games, which is something on the order of a miracle, because she usually sucks at the game. She tells him as much, to which he replies, “We make a good team.” They do make a good team. She looks more closely at him.
“Wait, did you take Dinosaurs! last semester?” she asks. He replies in the affirmative, and they realize that they sat a few rows away from each other for 15 weeks the previous spring, sometimes exchanging glances when the professor would say something ridiculous (which was all the time, because, let’s face it, the class title has an exclamation point). They reminisce about how weird/easy/stupid the class and everyone in it were, and he asks her if she wants to step outside. She nods, suddenly shy.
They exit the chaos of the party and stand on the porch. It’s quiet, but in a nice way, with the noise of debauchery now only a dull roar in the background. There are a few lingering drunk boys leaning over the railing, and usually she would roll her eyes at them for being such inebriated idiots, but she’s enjoying her night so far. She wonders why she doesn’t go out more often; this is actually kind of fun. Boy asks if she wants to sit. She looks at the moldy outdoor couch and sort of wants to say no, but also really wants to sit close to him, so she perches on the edge. He touches her waist in a way that would be a little forward, but she’s tipsy and happy and likes this boy. They kiss. He doesn’t use his tongue, and he doesn’t try to aggressively make out with her. It’s just a simple kiss. It is lovely, or as lovely as a first kiss on the porch of a fraternity annex can be.
Girl and Boy sit out there, kissing and talking and kissing. After a while, her friends want to leave. They come out to check on her, and she tells them to go ahead and go home without her, she’s good here. They drunkenly stumble toward home, and he asks her what she wants to do. She thinks for a minute, wonders what the acceptable thing to do in this situation is. Then she thinks, who cares, and says she wants to go back to his place. They walk home, holding hands. They go inside, he offers her water, she takes it. They hang out in the kitchen for a while, even though they’re clearly going to hook up, but she appreciates the pretense of conversation. He kisses her again, and they go to his bedroom.
The next morning, she wakes up and gets dressed. They make small talk, but it’s not super awkward. They hug goodbye, and she walks home. On the walk, she calls her friend, the one who made her go out last night. “You’ll never guess what happened last night.” Of course, she can guess, she knew exactly what was going on when she left, but she’s happy for Girl.
Girl waits a day for Boy to text her, but he doesn’t. She is initially upset, but then thinks, who says I can’t text him? Girls can text boys just as easily as boys can text girls! You know what, I’m going to text him. She texts.
Hey! I had fun last night, we should do it again sometime.
Three hours later, a reply.
Me too! We totally should.
A week goes by. Generic Girl wonders if she should text Generic Boy, but doesn’t want to seem “clingy” or “needy,” so she doesn’t. Boys don’t like that. Relationships should be casual and easy, right? Girl wonders if she should text Boy, but doesn’t want him to think their hookup meant more to her than it did to him. And clearly it didn’t mean anything to him, or he would have texted her, right? If he cared, he would text, right? She waits. They never speak again.