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She Had A “P” On Her Titty: Part 1

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*names have been changed to protect the blah blah blah…*

With a nervous chuckle, she slid the bra off her 36 Cs. I noticed a cute cluster of freckles in the shape of a “P” just above her nipple and…

And I should probably start from the beginning. Otherwise you ingrates won’t appreciate the hard work that went into this one.

It was the first day of classes. Illustrious Brother Sandy Cheeks and I were roosting at our regular post in the student union, keeping a watchful eye on the girls filing in through the door when we spotted her. She was the most beautiful thing I’d ever seen in my life. Well, excluding a 40 of Budweiser — they don’t sell 40s in Florida so that was a godsend. With a slightly too loud and adequately drunk slur, Sandy enumerated all the things he would do to her, upside down and sideways. She definitely overheard the last one because she looked our way and shot us a smile. Hoping to reclaim some dignity (read: get out of this awkward situation), I checked my phone and realized it was about time for class. I grabbed my backpack and Yeti Rambler, currently full of Jack and Coke (don’t judge me, I’m a senior and it was syllabus week), and mozied on out of the student union.

Stumbling into Biomechanics, I took a typical seat in the far corner of the room so I could sip from my Rambler in relative peace. What happened next surprised me as much as the helmet catch by Tyree in Superbowl 42. The girl from the student union waltzed in and sat next to me. “Hey, I didn’t catch your name in the Union. I’m Jess.” Stunned and spitting my drink all over her shirt, I knew I was off to the worst start. I introduced myself and sat in silence the rest of the class, hoping to be drunk enough to forget this in about 15 minutes. On our way out at the end of the lecture, she quipped, “Hey, I’ll catch you next time!” reminding me that this encounter will be repeated almost daily for a whole semester. I died a little on the inside.

Returning on the following lecture, I slunk away into another corner with my hat on, hoping for some anonymity that I wasn’t afforded the day prior. Lo and behold, I was identified in a heartbeat and she took her place by my side once more. “I see you’re drinking water this time. That’s a cute hat! Zac Brown is the best!” she said, referencing my Rambler and my hat. She went on: “I love ‘Homegrown.’ It’s almost as good as ‘Keep Me in Mind.’” Realizing that trying to make this go away would be a Sisyphean task, I decided to take her up on the challenge. However, before I could say anything, our professor boldly started the lecture.

“Since this will be a class based entirely on the application of engineering solutions to biology and biomedicine, it is important that you have a firm understanding of the human body. Therefore for these next few lectures, we will be reviewing biochemistry, biology, and anatomy as pertinent to the completion of the course.”

My already precarious standing with this girl, which was growing more and more awkward on its own, just took a nosedive for the worst. Now, every day we spend together will be overshadowed by unstated puns of anatomy and chemistry. I sat in pain for the next hour, my mind running a million miles a minute. Once the lecture was over, I packed my stuff and bolted out the door before anyone could mutter a peep.

Being an executive member of the [insert three-letter acronym for fraternity governing council] had its perks. We had keys to the Greek Life office and that’s where I was headed now. I leave a putter there so I can ruminate on my thoughts like all great men, which is exactly what this situation called for. I needed to do something about this. I needed a plan. I needed to prepare. As my man Lincoln once said, “Give me six hours to chop a tree and I will spend the first four sharpening the axe.”

I struggled in silence while reflecting on what to do, the moments measured by the ticking of the great clock on the wall. After 30 minutes, the clouds dispersed and a light broke in through the window as I finally solved the enigma. My catharsis was punctuated by the soft clanking of the glass cup when I’d sunk my final putt.

I hurried out of the office, almost forgetting to lock up. To quote Lincoln once more, “Things come to those who wait, but only the things left by those who hustle.”

To be continued…

Image via Shutterstock

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Harhko, Esq.

Son of The Most Interesting Man in the World. Has a weakness for single malt scotch and older women.

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