For my first (and thus far only) Georgetown Halloween, I fully embraced the Jesuit spirit of Georgetown and outfitted myself as a priest. After a few “sodas.” I was feeling pretty groovy, and I started conversing with a certain lady whom I had encountered earlier that day while trick-or-treating on Embassy Row. She, too, was high on “soda,” and the temptation of seducing a youthful Jesuit priest was too much for her delicate body to resist. Soon we were going at it in front of the Catholic school crowd.
The way she was on me, I think she was hoping for a religious experience later in the evening. Unfortunately for her, it didn’t happen, but that night I learned two things: women want what they can’t have, and they love a man in uniform.
– George D’Angelo (MSB ’12)
My friend and I were supposed to hang out with two girls one Friday night. After settling the plans with him the Monday before, I went to bed.
Thirty minutes later, my phone rang. It was one of the girls we were going to hang out with.
Now, I was only playing wingman for my friend, and I had never met this girl before, so the call surprised me.
“What’s up?” I asked.
“Well, I was just masturbating and wanted to know if you could help me,” she said.
Suddenly, I was fully awake.
“What do you mean ‘help?” I asked.
“Let’s have phone sex,” she said. “Ok, I’ll start. I slowly kiss you and then start working my way down to your…”
You get the idea. I had no idea what to say back, and the only response I could muster was, “Nice.”
Then it was my turn: “I kiss you back, and then start to suck on your…”
After muttering that fateful last word, I heard my friend cracking up in the background. He was on a three-way call the entire time, pranking me. I have still not lived it down, even to this day.
– Tom Bosco (MSB ’12)
I was a summer camp slut. During the summer after 7th grade, I had no fewer than two boyfriends—one at each of the camps I attended. At the first one, I was dumped because I “wasn’t willing to go far enough” (i.e. do more than just peck). To redeem myself, I decided to “go far enough” at the second camp.
My second summer camp boyfriend and I had been going out for nearly the entire session (a whole three weeks) and, though our conversations had hardly passed the superficialities of whether the Backstreet Boys really did suck, we felt we were ready to for the next stage: making out.
The site of our romance? A choice spot behind a large barn. As soon as it got hot and heavy (he was a little more enthusiastic than I), I felt a firm hand on my shoulder.
“No kissing!” barked the camp director.
I didn’t want to kiss him with tongue anyway.
– Chelsea Paige (SFS ’09)
A fellow student journalist once brought a night of drunken, er, debauchery we had shared to the attention of our entire newspaper staff when he wore his 2007 Relay for Life shirt to the following production night. It read, “It’s a one night stand you won’t forget.” Despite his flagrancy, we spent another night in flagrante the following weekend, prompting my then-roommate to buy me a t-shirt at a thrift store, which she thought could serve as my retort. The next production night, I was more than a little proud of my cotton riposte, which read, “I’ll try anything once. Twice if I like it.”
– Molly Redden (COL ’11)
For someone who used to compete in math competitions for fun, perhaps it is unsurprising that I made it through elementary school without kissing a single human female. The tides of my lovelorn waters turned for the better in high school, though I was hardly expecting to find love’s eternal flame at a showing of the unflaggingly dull Mothman Prophecies. My buddy and I plopped a few seats away from two high school girls, one with her boyfriend and the other conspicuously without.
After much goading (you should, like, totally kiss her!) and even suggestive demonstrations by the match-maker and her BF (oh, so that’s how you do it …), I dove into my first kiss—more a slimy clashing of tongues than a civilized gesture of romance. That night I felt cooler than I ever have in my entire life. I’m okay with that: how often does a guy get as much play as Richard Gere in the movie he’s watching?
– Traviss Cassidy (SFS ’09)
