www.morgypoo.com

Tale of college humor

You Might As Well Dance

I went home again on the weekend following Lent, mostly so I could see my new girlfriend Teri again. I brought her to a buddy's wedding, which proved to be a rowdy affair. Folks were dancing on the tables by the second song. And of course there was the usual wedding stuff: gatoring, chicken fight dancing, human pyramids. But I was strangely more interested in my date than the group athletics out on the dance floor. So Teri and I kept to our selves, playing the cozy couple in the corner. I didn't care that the festivities were going on without us; this one-on-one intimacy was a far greater treasure. And it was happening so fast! Three dates and I'm hooked on the girl, three dates and I'm shunning my lifetime pals.

Part of it was physical attraction. No, lots of it was physical attraction. She was the most beautiful girl I had ever dated: silky blonde hair, sparkly blue eyes, a sweet smile, and a great figure. But our personalities gelled too. Okay, the Morgmonster personality didn’t sync up with this sweet girl, but she suited the quieter sober me just fine. We got to talking about deep things, Teri and I, like what we truly wanted from life. Just as I'd discussed with the great philosopher Musky on many a drunken night, I told Teri how I didn't long to get things from life so much as I dreamed of being certain things. A giving man, a spiritual man, actually, a man who lived by the words of Jesus. "I'm not doing so good spiritually, but I really want to make that a bigger part of my life."

"Me too," Teri smiled eagerly, like she was happy to finally meet a man with similar cares. "I want God to be a bigger part of my life, but it's hard when all my friends care about is going out and having a good time." I could certainly relate to that. "And do you know what I'd really like to do?" Teri asked, her eyes growing even bigger. I shook my head, but couldn't wait to hear. "I've always wanted to move to New York, ever since my best friend moved out there."

Man, that was a let down. Another girlfriend bent on leaving the state. I could only hope, as I'd hoped with Sheila, that she would change her mind if she and I became more serious.

In the meantime, romance was king. I took Teri back to my parents' pad and put on a Billy Joel tape, just as MacKenzie had taught me. The lights were low and the mood perfect. After Teri changed into jeans and a blouse, I took my seat on the couch next to her, held her hand for a spell, and soon we were locked in a kiss. My heart was racing with anticipation as I wondered what would come next. I was both excited and nervous, and Teri seemed to be the same. But this wasn’t the excitement of conquest, this was a mutual affection thing. In other words, I wouldn’t be empty afterwards.

"Can I ask you something?" Teri stopped to ask, her lips just inches from mine. "How do you feel about, you know, sex?"

How do I answer that one? I wasn't sure if she was suggesting an activity, or raising a fear. As I thought how to respond, Teri smiled and reached for the right words to explain herself. "I'm not going to be ready until, well, until I'm married." So this beautiful young woman was a confirmed virgin. In a way I was glad. I was glad that we could get romantic without getting sexual. It just seemed more the right pace. My hormones were bummed, of course, but my heart was glad. With Teri, the attraction was more a romantic one, and very powerful at that. I just wanted to be with her.

"That's cool with me," I smiled.

Teri beamed a beautiful smile and said, "How did I ever get you?" I was thinking the same thing.

The next hour or two, or three for all I know, we spent in bliss. We kissed and hugged and talked from intimate range, gazing into each other's eyes. There was still unexplored territory, but that was okay. As a matter of fact, sex would have only destroyed the intimacy we were sharing that night.

When I returned to the land of Women In Underwear, finals were less than a month away. I gradually regained my drinking abilities, thanks to a rehab program that Flick personally oversaw. Between the hourly chugs and the twice-a-day counseling sessions, I was back to my old self in no time. Even so, Flick was concerned over my lack of kermits. So come the first happy hour in May, he did his damnedest to make me lose my breakfast. I resisted as best I could, because Teri was coming to visit that very evening, and she had never seen Morgypoo in lager form. I was hoping to ease her into it. "I don't want to kermit this time!" I kept telling my little buddy as he shoveled drinks down my throat. It was no use. Once I had enough booze in me, my right arm clicked into auto pilot and I couldn't help but slam down beers at the speed of gravity. Same old story: no stopping, and no slowing down, even though I wanted very badly to stay sober.

I felt pretty guilty as I swam deep into the Lager Abyss. I felt like Teri was about to see the other side of me, the dark side. And chances were she wouldn't like it.

As Flick and I sat in my pad awaiting my "beloved Teri-poo," Musky made the foolish mistake of popping in to introduce his mom. "Mrs. Musky!" I howled with joy. I jumped to my feet and grabbed Musky's mom by the waist and, despite her half hearted resistance, I pulled her onto my lap and nuzzled my head unto her bosom.

Mrs. Musky loved it. I know she did. She laughed hysterically and said to her son, "You weren't kidding about this guy, were you?"

"You're a good chick," I smiled as I rocked Mrs. Musky on my lap. And then Teri entered. "My beloved Teri-poo!" I screamed with delight. One look and she knew I was trashed. She laughed nervously as she stepped inside and gave me a quick kiss. Fortunately for me, she was amused rather than P.O.'ed. I lucked out.

We took to the Palace, my beloved Teri-poo and I, where we danced and I introduced her to all my chums. It felt pretty neat to hang out at that place with a fine woman, after the hundreds of hours I had logged in there solo. This surely beat caressing the handles on the foosball table. And the thing I couldn't get over was Teri's infatuation with me. I didn't even have to try.

The same went for back in my room: Teri's smiling lips and sparkling eyes told me this was going to be a mutual entanglement of romance. We sat on the bed and kissed for a spell, then Teri smiled confidently as she slipped off her top and jeans. What a gorgeous figure she presented. At last, Macomb was yielding her promise: Women In Underwear.

All night long we shared romance, albeit the virgin kind, and come sunrise we talked and cuddled and kissed some more. "When will she get tired of me?" I kept wondering, but instead she grew more entranced. It just didn't add up, a woman like her going bonkers for me. After so many years of sour disappointment, I found myself lying beside a dream. She had the face and hair of Barbie, the body too, and yet she had the heart and innocence of a little girl.

I could have stayed there beneath the sheets all day, but duty called, for on this day the campus-wide "Make Me Smile" Laker was taking place. Many famous people had blown chow at these Lakers throughout the years, thus the alternate nick name of Make Me Puke.

Teri and I drove down to the Laker with Lance and Lacy, the couple who set us up just two months before. As the hours passed and the sun browned our bodies, Morgypoo became a bit restless. The day wasn't as special as I'd imagined. For some reason, perhaps because I was with a lady, I couldn't get into being wild at the Laker. All around us people laughed and joked and flocked to the kegs, but us two couples sat quietly, tranquilly, like cattle grazing on grass. Lance and Lacy were having one of their silent clashes, and that seemed to put a damper on Teri and I too. Is this what being a couple is like? Is this what I've wanted so badly for so long?

The problem boiled down to this: Teri and I didn't know each other very well, and I'd been relying solely on romance to make the relationship grow. So what began as a great thing was now becoming old, the thrill of physical attraction fast fading. I wasn't used to having a woman around me non-stop, constantly, keeping me from wandering freely. And how long did it take me to go from bliss to boredom – two hours?

I suddenly and sadly realized just how independent I had become. For even when I hung out with the Boyzz, I roamed around on my own quite a bit, leaving the pack to go solo whenever I got the urge. Nobody owned me. And now it looked like I loved freedom even more than women, which frankly shocked me. But I couldn't very well desert Teri to wander off on my own, so instead I sat there feeling like a saddled stallion, my eyes staring off into the crowd. And I was disappointed at my own disinterest. I felt like an old dog who finally won the chase and caught a car, and realized there wasn’t much reward after all.

By the time Teri left on Sunday, I was downright apathetic about the relationship, and about school, and the Boyzz, and even foosball. What was I going to live for now? Lance noticed my chin dragging on the floor and asked what was wrong. So I told him. "I feel real empty these days, Lanceman. I always thought I needed a special woman to make me happy. Well now I've got one, and it’s not all that special. It's like nothing satisfies me any more."

"Maybe you should try some of Flick's drugs," Lance suggested, his eyes filled with sympathy and compassion. I politely declined, saying I had enough of a problem handling booze.

I remained in my rut until the weekend before finals. That's when I found out the killer news: I didn't just need a C average to avoid flunking out, I needed to raise my cumulative average to a C. That basically put me up Shit Creek--without a calculator. No amount of studying could accomplish this task. I was going down.

You would think a man would be depressed after learning he's about to flunk out of school, and for a few hours I was. But once I saw there was nothing I could do about it, I said the hell with school. I didn't touch another book. It was actually a relief to know where I stood. From that time on, I put all my energies into partying my brains out and enjoying my last week of college life. Might as well go down swinging, I decided. If you're going to pay the fiddler, you might as well dance.

I only recall bits and pieces of that last drunken week, and what I remember was beyond crazy. I called up Teri, late one night, and asked what she was up to. "At four in the morning? Sleeping," she answered in a groggy voice. She claims that after a brief and bizarre conversation, I excused myself so I could sit next to my garbage can and kermit.

Phone records show that I called Sheila, my ex-girlfriend, the next night at three in the morning and talked for 5 minutes. Honestly I never recalled talking to her; I must have been submerged deep in the phantom zone at the time. Makes me wonder what the heck I said to her, and what she said back. But it didn’t really matter; that relationship was definitely over, a crash and burn that time would not revive.

The next evening found me at the Palace, of all places. I spotted Rikki, one of the new Babes, sitting all alone near the dance floor. This woman hadn't said boo to me in three months now, ever since I started dodging her. Tonight, Morgypoo would bridge the silence.

"That's the fourth time they've played thish shong," I casually slurred as I leaned my elbows onto Rikki's table.

"What time did you get here?" she wondered aloud, her arms folded in half interest.

"Right after I ate."

"Oh."

"Lunch," I clarified.

Rikki's eyes doubled in size as she realized how hammered I must be, having camped out at the Palace for twelve hours.

Our conversation was a strange one. I strained my foggy brain just to follow what Rikki was saying as she rambled on about a romance gone bad. "I kinda got burned big time," she revealed after a few drinkypoo’s. "This guy I was seeing, well, you probably don't want to hear about it."

"No, hey, I know what you're going through," I said, trying to console this woman. You know how consoling drunks can be. Soothing and comforting just naturally turned into holding her hand and kissing her. And soon we were back in my room, naked and joined at the waist. I had lots of fun, but all at Rikki’s expense. When I awoke, the morning guilt kicked in. I knew this was a big mistake. I wasn’t really interested in a relationship with Rikki, just sex. And I knew darn well that she was in it for the heart. This is exactly what I was so careful to avoid with her at the beginning of the semester, back when she was pursuing me as a future husband.

The morning moved mighty slowly until I walked Rikki back to her room and kissed her goodbye. As soon as she vanished from sight, oh wow, I felt free again. More than free, I was a conqueror, a Viking back from his conquest. But mixed in with my Viking’s high was a subtle feeling of being a selfish jerk. I had cheated on Teri, and I knew I pushed Rikki farther than she wanted to go. Okay, maybe not farther, just faster. But I chose to ignore guilt feelings and relish the conqueror feelings. Guilt was almost gone.

My excitement wore off as the hangover set in. I thought about Teri, and how she might feel if she knew. We hadn't formally pledged ourselves to be faithful, but it was kind of implied. What really had me feeling bad, though, wasn't cheating on a girl I barely knew; using Rikki was the part I felt guilty about. I used her vulnerability as a means to get my jollies. What a dirt bag I was, a far cry from the gentleman I used to be, prior to Beer.

By mid afternoon I was beginning to forget my shame. Hanging out with the Boyzz helped. We gathered in the lounge to watch Wheel of Fortune, our favorite educational program, and laughed at all the dirty answers each man shouted out. "How do you spell orgasm?" Banjo Jim asked as he counted the number of letters on the TV screen.

"R-i-k-k-i," Lance teased, knowing of my conquest and my guilt.

I sourly rolled my eyes at that thought, and not a minute later, Rikki came strutting in. This could mean but one thing: Rikki was looking for something lasting.

My fear lost out to politeness, as always. As much as I wanted to bring this thing to a halt, I covered up all remorse and disinterest, for I hated being the rejecter even more. So I played along, trying not to hurt Rikki. I took her to the Palace, talked nice, all that stuff. And if things worked out right, I could end the evening with a harmless kiss and a see-ya-later, and find a morsel of self respect. That was the plan.

"I guess I'll see ya around," I mumbled after walking Rikki to her door. She didn’t buy that line for a bit. She smiled and pulled me inside, locking the door behind us. Before I could think of what to say, she was kissing me, and I figured it would be rude not to kiss back, right? Should I speak up? It was happening so fast, Rikki wasn’t about to slow down. She suddenly pulled back and looked deep into my eyes, and this seemed the perfect time to let her down easy. As I thought about what to say, Rikki took the initiative, taking off her shirt, then her bra, and suddenly I wasn’t about to get in her way.

Moments later we were joined at the pelvis, half of me thinking 'crap, here we go again' and half of me infatuated with the act. I loved it, and I hated it, all at once. Depends which part of my heart I wanted to listen to. I felt so guilty, using this fragile hearted woman. But that didn't stop me.

I didn't say a whole lot the next morning. Just slipped into my jeans and jammed, saying I had some studying to do. Like I was really going to study. Again I felt a wave of relief, the instant we parted. What a weight lifted, like I could stop acting interested and showing feelings that weren't really there.

I avoided Rikki the third night, at last demonstrating some will power and consideration. And I was all set to avoid her on the following night, too, until I got home from the Palace and found her note on my door. "I miss ya," was all it said, followed by her name, dotted with a heart.

I should just let it go, I knew. I would only hate myself later. But I read the note a second time. It didn’t say much, but it spoke volumes. She wanted me, and all I had to do was go to her room and she was mine for the taking.

This one didn't even merit a coin flip. I wandered down to Rikki’s room and knocked softly. The door opened a couple inches, and there was Rikki, smiling at me more than I deserved. She was mighty glad to see me again, though I could tell she wanted a different me. She wanted companionship, tenderness, conversation, all those things we call love. But they weren't in my heart, at least not for her. So I offered her the cheap substitute: pure lust. And Rikki settled for that.

I had an awesome time that night. Hey, after three semesters of frustration, things were finally going Morgy's way. It felt like I had a great new hobby. But those feelings changed come morning. Our third sex fest had me completely spent, along with the twenty beers I had the previous evening. Now I found myself facing Rikki, with absolutely nothing to give her. Never did I so clearly have nothing to say. And Rikki so needed to hear the words that escaped me. She was hurting big time.

The clincher came later that day, as I saw Rikki walk into Flick's room, tears pouring down her cheeks. It killed me to know I was the cause. That's when I knew I couldn't touch her again. I strolled into my room and reflected for a while, trying to sort out this garbage I'd been allowing in my heart, and how I had let it go on. I suppose I'd been looking for the contentment I wasn't finding anywhere else in my life. That, and I was horny. It just stunk that someone else had to suffer so I could get my kicks.

I spent my last night in Macomb with my closest friend: the foosball table at the Palace. God only knows how many hours I'd spent caressing those handles. Maybe I didn't have a college degree, but Mister, I had one mean pull shot. You don't meet many women playing foosball; it's a man's game for the most part. But a cute little lady appeared across the table from me late that night. A closer look made me realize it was Paula, the girl who nearly stole my virginity three semesters earlier. I thought back to the night that I took her to a party in Dad's room, when a few shots of Southern Comfort transformed her from a cold, aloof date into a sizzling hot vixen, only to end up hugging the toilet. And now, here she was, looking at me and smiling. We made small talk for a few minutes, and ordinarily that’s where I would have left it. But I was on a roll and filled with confidence, so I decided to test the waters: "Wanna grab a six pack and head back to my room?"

Paula perked her eyes open wide and said, "Sounds like that has some possibilities."

Whoa yeah, things were looking up. Moments later, Paula waited in her car as I ran into the liquor store for reinforcements. Just as the old man was ringing up my beer, my eyes spotted a bottle of Southern Comfort upon the shelf. I very nearly reached for it, recalling how effectively it turned Paula into a horny, disgusting nymphomaniac, then I remembered its wretched after-effect. No, this time I wanted Paula to stay conscious.

Once back in my room, I locked the door, and Paula knew what that meant. I sat down on the bed, nice and close to Paula, then quipped, "You sure I'm not crowding you too much?" Hardly. Within seconds she was lying on top of me as we did some heavy kissing, sighing, maneuvering and caressing.

My mind raced ahead, plotting each move that would further my new hobby. It's amazing how you can go for a year without a single date, and then, WHAM, it's Chick City. It seemed to be either feast or famine, and I was fast becoming a connoisseur. But just when it seemed I had Paula dead to rights, she called time out, claiming she couldn't mess around because she had a boyfriend back home. "Don't worry about it, I have a girlfriend back home," I answered.

"Well, I'm kind of seeing someone down here, too," she added.

"Really? Wow, so am I! You and me have a lot in common."

"I can't," Paula insisted. "My boyfriend gave me beer money tonight just so I'd promise I wouldn't mess around on him."

Such moral integrity this woman possessed, such staunch ethics. How could I, in good conscience, threaten such an intimate bond? Well, I worked at it. Considering my snaking confidence was at an all time high, I decided to press on. She teetered, sighed, and soon she joined in the act. This time she won't get away on me. And just then, my phone rang. Stupid me, I made the big mistake of letting Paula answer it. "Hello? Hello??" she tried. Then she turned to me and said, "Whoever it was, they hung up."

Oh shit, this late at night, that could only be Teri, or Rikki. I may be in trouble. As I lay there wondering who it was, Paula stood up and tucked her shirt in, then kissed me on the forehead and walked out the door. "Don't go!" I shouted. "I've got a bottle of Southern Comfort just for us!"

Bummer. The woman left me one frustrated cowboy. But at least I didn't sink so low as to go running to Rikki's room again. No, I just sat up and finished off the beers as I gazed out my little dorm window. As my hours in Macomb neared their end, I looked over the campus and thought, Macomb, Macomb, how is it that you always get the best of me? I lose sight of my real self around you. Somehow you turn me into an animal of pleasure. Maybe it was good that I was leaving. I didn’t like myself in this place.

I managed to finish packing my things by noon, leaving me an hour to sit around with the Boyzz and drink a few last beers. What a lonely, empty time that was, in spite of being surrounded by pals. It felt almost like the last meal before an execution. Okay, not that bad, but it bit the big one. It was hard to believe my time in Macomb was coming to an end. All my friends, all my fun times, one hour from extinction. I might never set foot in a dorm again, I sadly realized. And there was nothing I could do to change it. I had built my house on the sand, and now I watched as a typhoon was coming to blow it all away. I always knew the time would come when I would have to pay the fiddler, but I didn't know it would feel so empty.

Turn to Chapter 15: Flunking Out Isn’t All It’s Cracked Up To Be…

http://www.morgypoo.com/ch15.htm