In light of my friend's Worst Date Ever thread, we need a thread where WE do some ass-kicking. I'll get the ball rolling...
I'm told the best place to start is the beginning.
So, there I was. My first semester in college, about 2 months in. It was a Thursday night in the dorms and my new friends and I decided to throw ourselves a little party in the dorm room. By "little" I mean "large", and by "party" I mean "DrinkFest". I was smashed within an hour.
I was in the hall alternating between throwing a small ball and laughing at how little I could feel when it was thrown back at me. Only a short time passed before my roommate approached me. I was guessing he was going to ask me to disappear for a little bit so he could be alone with his girlfriend. In the loudest whisper that could still be considered a whisper, he says to me
"Matt, can I have the room for sixty seconds?"
"Sixty Seconds? You Stallion!!" Was my drunken reply.
My roommate pondered this for a few seconds and said "Okay, how about one and a half times that-- 90 seconds?"
"You got it." I said, knowing I had a hell of a lot longer than 90 seconds before I should return. Two of my drunken floor mates accompanied me to the den, where I decided I would wait out my exile. The den was empty, except for one girl doing her homework. The girl acknowledged us, and the two other guys began doing drunken headstands and cartwheels, partly to try to impress the girl. I function best when I'm upright, so I didn't join in.
By this time, the poor girl couldn't do any of her homework with the fricken acrobats performing next to her. So she began talking with us. I may as well be entertained during my exile, so now the cartwheels stop. This is where it gets a little blackout-y, so I am just going by what my friend told me the next day. He was one of the two guys in the room.
Apparently, he and this other guy were trying to impress this girl. You know, "be tha mack daddy, yo." I was in the room as well, but I was just kind of being a jackass. After some time of this, my friend decides it ain't happening and to goes to bed. So that leaves me with that girl and a short, flamboyant, sort of feminine boy. He is trying REALLY hard to impress her, and it wasn't working. Still doing headstands, ripping on me, trying not to lisp so much--the whole works. I was checking my watch wondering if it were safe to go back to my room.
Needless to say, it was a small boost to my confidence that a sober girl decided she liked me over an effeminate smurf. This was turning out to be a decent use of my time, right? After another hour or two and a romantic encounter I returned to the dorm room, announced I had made a new friend, and passed out.
I awoke with a big headache to go with my big head. My ego was doing very well, as I went over the fact that some girl would be impressed with ME drunk and HER SOBER. I smelled so much like rum you could get drunk off of my breath. But it seemed that my drunken charisma was intoxicating enough for her to overcome such trivial things.
I can imagine those of you who know me are probably scratching your heads and thinking "I would pick the fruity midget." To that, I say "The fruity midget would pick YOU!" (tuh-huh-huh!)
As fate would have it, there would be a point where I would have to interact with this girl when we were both sober. One night we decided to go to the library. We both had a ton of math homework to do. Something to point out is that we were not in the same math course. She was in a basic algebra course, and I was in Math 234 - third semester calculus. Math was my forte; I was going to be an engineer. I didn't think any less of anyone for not being is such a godforsaken class. In fact, it was an asset to be able to help the girl you were dating with stuff like that.
We set out all our books on the table and got to work. We both had a shitload of homework. Soon, she asked me for some help.
"How do you do this one?"
Happy to help, I went through the steps with her. It was just some story problem. "Okay, well, you know distance equals rate times time, so you know the time, and distance....... and then you're all set."
"Well, you are the genius in Math 234."
"I do what I can," I said with a smile.
A little later she had another question she was stuck on. I did my best to answer her. And she said "Well, they must teach you that in Math 234, because you're *such* a genius."
I didn't want her to think I was smarter than her, so I tried to just downplay what she said. "Come on, I'm not a genius."
The situation repeated itself several times. And each time, she seemed more resentful for me helping her. I became more uncomfortable as she became more sarcastic.
"Ohhhh! You must just be the math genius! You're in 234 so you can do anything!"
Or
"Look at that! You can do that, too! You just must be some kind of genius, huh?"
Or
"I guess you just know everything, huh? Did they teach you how to do that in Math 234? Is that why you know everything?"
What the hell was going on? I was trying to show patience and be friendly, and I've tutored people in Math before so I was fairly certain I wasn't rubbing anything in her face. I wasn't talking down to her and I certainly wasn't being condescending and saying "Ooh! that's a tricky one! But you are doing so well! Yes you are!" None of that. Keep in mind I just started dating her. I wasn't about to act like a jerk. However, the constant sarcasm and hostility shown toward me for helping her with her math was starting to wear on me.
Something came over me. I don't know if it was due to my testicles finally descending or my voice finally changing, or a combination of both. But, at that moment, I was a Man. I was NOT going to be harassed for HELPING SOMEONE. I never go to the doctor's office and say "OHHH, SMARTY MAN DOCTOR! DO YOU KNOW HOW TO DO THAT BECAUSE YOU WENT TO *medical school*?"
Hiding my frustration as best I could, I helped her once more. Her reply was
"Oh, look! The genius gets another one right! Good job, GENIUS. Did they teach you how to do that in Math 234? Is that where you learn stuff like that, Math 234?"
"No, I learned that in *grades* 2, 3, and 4."
Silence.
For a split second I thought I had gone too far, until I saw her reaction.
"I was complimenting you!"
What? "No, you were being condescending. I thought it was accidental except you've been doing it all night."
"Well, you think you're so smart. You answered every question!"
"Good Night" I said. That was pretty much the end of that.
I'm told the best place to start is the beginning.
So, there I was. My first semester in college, about 2 months in. It was a Thursday night in the dorms and my new friends and I decided to throw ourselves a little party in the dorm room. By "little" I mean "large", and by "party" I mean "DrinkFest". I was smashed within an hour.
I was in the hall alternating between throwing a small ball and laughing at how little I could feel when it was thrown back at me. Only a short time passed before my roommate approached me. I was guessing he was going to ask me to disappear for a little bit so he could be alone with his girlfriend. In the loudest whisper that could still be considered a whisper, he says to me
"Matt, can I have the room for sixty seconds?"
"Sixty Seconds? You Stallion!!" Was my drunken reply.
My roommate pondered this for a few seconds and said "Okay, how about one and a half times that-- 90 seconds?"
"You got it." I said, knowing I had a hell of a lot longer than 90 seconds before I should return. Two of my drunken floor mates accompanied me to the den, where I decided I would wait out my exile. The den was empty, except for one girl doing her homework. The girl acknowledged us, and the two other guys began doing drunken headstands and cartwheels, partly to try to impress the girl. I function best when I'm upright, so I didn't join in.
By this time, the poor girl couldn't do any of her homework with the fricken acrobats performing next to her. So she began talking with us. I may as well be entertained during my exile, so now the cartwheels stop. This is where it gets a little blackout-y, so I am just going by what my friend told me the next day. He was one of the two guys in the room.
Apparently, he and this other guy were trying to impress this girl. You know, "be tha mack daddy, yo." I was in the room as well, but I was just kind of being a jackass. After some time of this, my friend decides it ain't happening and to goes to bed. So that leaves me with that girl and a short, flamboyant, sort of feminine boy. He is trying REALLY hard to impress her, and it wasn't working. Still doing headstands, ripping on me, trying not to lisp so much--the whole works. I was checking my watch wondering if it were safe to go back to my room.
Needless to say, it was a small boost to my confidence that a sober girl decided she liked me over an effeminate smurf. This was turning out to be a decent use of my time, right? After another hour or two and a romantic encounter I returned to the dorm room, announced I had made a new friend, and passed out.
I awoke with a big headache to go with my big head. My ego was doing very well, as I went over the fact that some girl would be impressed with ME drunk and HER SOBER. I smelled so much like rum you could get drunk off of my breath. But it seemed that my drunken charisma was intoxicating enough for her to overcome such trivial things.
I can imagine those of you who know me are probably scratching your heads and thinking "I would pick the fruity midget." To that, I say "The fruity midget would pick YOU!" (tuh-huh-huh!)
As fate would have it, there would be a point where I would have to interact with this girl when we were both sober. One night we decided to go to the library. We both had a ton of math homework to do. Something to point out is that we were not in the same math course. She was in a basic algebra course, and I was in Math 234 - third semester calculus. Math was my forte; I was going to be an engineer. I didn't think any less of anyone for not being is such a godforsaken class. In fact, it was an asset to be able to help the girl you were dating with stuff like that.
We set out all our books on the table and got to work. We both had a shitload of homework. Soon, she asked me for some help.
"How do you do this one?"
Happy to help, I went through the steps with her. It was just some story problem. "Okay, well, you know distance equals rate times time, so you know the time, and distance....... and then you're all set."
"Well, you are the genius in Math 234."
"I do what I can," I said with a smile.
A little later she had another question she was stuck on. I did my best to answer her. And she said "Well, they must teach you that in Math 234, because you're *such* a genius."
I didn't want her to think I was smarter than her, so I tried to just downplay what she said. "Come on, I'm not a genius."
The situation repeated itself several times. And each time, she seemed more resentful for me helping her. I became more uncomfortable as she became more sarcastic.
"Ohhhh! You must just be the math genius! You're in 234 so you can do anything!"
Or
"Look at that! You can do that, too! You just must be some kind of genius, huh?"
Or
"I guess you just know everything, huh? Did they teach you how to do that in Math 234? Is that why you know everything?"
What the hell was going on? I was trying to show patience and be friendly, and I've tutored people in Math before so I was fairly certain I wasn't rubbing anything in her face. I wasn't talking down to her and I certainly wasn't being condescending and saying "Ooh! that's a tricky one! But you are doing so well! Yes you are!" None of that. Keep in mind I just started dating her. I wasn't about to act like a jerk. However, the constant sarcasm and hostility shown toward me for helping her with her math was starting to wear on me.
Something came over me. I don't know if it was due to my testicles finally descending or my voice finally changing, or a combination of both. But, at that moment, I was a Man. I was NOT going to be harassed for HELPING SOMEONE. I never go to the doctor's office and say "OHHH, SMARTY MAN DOCTOR! DO YOU KNOW HOW TO DO THAT BECAUSE YOU WENT TO *medical school*?"
Hiding my frustration as best I could, I helped her once more. Her reply was
"Oh, look! The genius gets another one right! Good job, GENIUS. Did they teach you how to do that in Math 234? Is that where you learn stuff like that, Math 234?"
"No, I learned that in *grades* 2, 3, and 4."
Silence.
For a split second I thought I had gone too far, until I saw her reaction.
"I was complimenting you!"
What? "No, you were being condescending. I thought it was accidental except you've been doing it all night."
"Well, you think you're so smart. You answered every question!"
"Good Night" I said. That was pretty much the end of that.