Sometimes You Should Believe Bad Boys When They Say They Are Bad

Let’s meet Chris. I’m not sure I can quite recall meeting Chris for the first time but I remember one significant night. I’d seen him around, and as I’d mentioned, he was friends with Orlando and therefore friends with Brandy. Brandy and I are in the same sorority and we went to a frat party. Turns out, Chris was in that frat. I saw him one night and I was jealous that Brandy was talking to him because I had seen him around the dorms. Anyway, fast forward a few more frat parties and I get set up on a date with a frat boy to take me to a party. (Oh now that’s definitely another really really great story.)

There I was, at this party, talking to a British pledge, having been ditched by my date for someone wildly skinnier and prettier than me, and Chris walks up to me. We somehow end up outside, and I’ll admit, to get over my loneliness I was pretty darn tipsy at this point. He was foreign too – I won’t say from where, let’s just say he had a delightful accent. We end up surrounded by my sorority girls and a couple frat boys. The conversation turns to hazing – now, this doesn’t happen in sororities where I am, but low key possibly in the frats (never confirmed.) So we stand around laughing about rumours of what people have been said to have done.

Here comes the juicy bit…
He’s discussing how in other universities, fraternities get sorority girls to come in and sit on washing machines, turning them on and the frat boys have to circle the bits that jiggle. They have to lose that weight before initiation. All well and good, horrible hazing but it’s little more than small talk at this point. Then, this bloody boy turns around and looks me in the eye, saying; oh and I quote! “See now, I wouldn’t do this for any of these girls, except you.”

Now, drunk me is pretty slow, but my friend next to me isn’t. Her face turns from a smile to a scowl, she looks at me to gage my reaction and I’m sort of smiling/ sort of frowning. Did he just call me jiggly? Oh yeah. My friend knows he just called me jiggly.

Fast forward a few weeks and we are pre gaming at his place and we kiss. Then in conversation it comes out that he called me jiggly. Now get this, turns out he knew me from across the street in the dorms, and thought I was a different girl to “The Washing Machine Girl”. Oh yeah, I had a nickname in his flat. Yeah, noted. I knew he was a bad boy. We hang out, it’s fun, he’s not the greatest guy. He makes me laugh. We fight. We drink. It’s fun. We meet up in LA, he pays. He leaves.

I was hurt and I wasn’t so chill about it. Purely because he wasn’t meant to leave, but alas, the boy never really knew me and he made it very clear he only wanted one thing. So, lesson learned, trust the bad boy when he says he’s a bad boy. But boy can you have fun with a bad boy.


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