How Using Tinder At My Formal In Georgia Led To The Best Night Of My Life

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Savannah was an easy pick for formal my senior year for two reasons: lack of an open container law and the bars there are open until three in the morning. Mix these two things with a hundred horny guys and their dates, and you’re bound to lose a dick or two in the process.

I handpicked one of the hottest girls in Greek life to be my date — Melanie, a sweet, sweet Tri-Delt with enormous cans and a respectably firm ass. With a hot date on my arm and a cooler filled to the brim with alcohol to get us through the long bus drive, I was set for the formal to end all formals.

For a fifteen-hour, overnight bus ride, the trip seemed to fly by. I’m sure it had nothing to do with getting blackout and taking Melanie into the bathroom for a quick pitstop to Poundtown. Drunk bus bathroom sex is not that great. Actually, it’s terrible. The logistics of it all are an absolute nightmare. Soberly, I would have had a hard enough time standing up on a bus for a prolonged period. Throw in the fact that I was shit-housed, and our maniac driver — who we referred to as Keanu — driving at redline speeds on some of the most poorly maintained highways in America, and it’s a miracle that I didn’t break my dick off inside Melanie.

Upon arrival in Savannah, our drunken hoard was released from the buses into the hotel for checkin. After escorting Melanie up to our room, we proceeded to take a shower to wash the bus filth off of us, which, naturally, led to more boning. We then took some shots — not that we needed any at that point — and met up with some of my pledge brothers for dinner at Tubby’s on River Street.

It was at this restaurant that the night would take a turn for the better. I decided it would be fun to hop on the ole Tinder machine and see what the locals had to offer. After swiping for what seemed to be an hour (it was ten minutes) I finally reached a threshold and couldn’t swipe anymore.

The next seven hours were a blur filled with Wet Willies’ alcoholic frozen slushies, Irish breakfast shots at the Rail Pub, and a whole bunch of other bars that I couldn’t remember the name of if you put a gun to my head. I vaguely remember spilling a beer on my buddy’s date when I tripped going down the ungodly steep historic stairs. Her dress was ruined, and she’s still trying to get me to pay for it. We ended up at Sweet Melissa’s for the best drunken pizza I’ve ever had.

While eating our pizza, I felt a few buzzes in my pocket and whipped out my phone to see that I had a new match and a message. After trading a few witty comments with this girl, Brianna, she promptly told me I should come over for a few drinks and Netflix. I read that as, “Come fuck my brains out!” I’m a man of the people and had to oblige. The only obstacles keeping me were 1. Melanie and 2. Brianna was a good thirty minutes away.

Quick thinking led me to tell Brianna that I was in town for a fraternity formal, rooming with two guys (which was complete bullshit) and that I had no means of transportation to her. She responded that she would come pick me up at the hotel in forty-five minutes, and we’d go back to her place. Obstacle two was down — now I had to take down number one (figuratively and literally). The short walk back to the hotel felt like forever, and I was in a time crunch. I like to think I thrive under pressure, which is why I procrastinate constantly.

I wanted to get done with Melanie as quickly as possible so I could get her to sleep and then I could go to my next conquest. I did what any other man would do: I faked an orgasm and then pretended that I was about to fall asleep. She was out like a light about five minutes later, and she snored like a damn bear. I thought to myself, “Thank God I don’t have to sleep with this tonight.”

I snuck out of the room and went down to the lobby to wait for Brianna. The thirty-minute drive to her place was filled with awkward small talk that turned into one of those phone sex calls you always see advertised at 4 a.m. While she was driving, she reached over and started giving me an OTPHJ. At first, I was pretty concerned for our safety, but as the blood started rushing from one head to the other, I really got into it. I feel like the OTPHJ is highly underrated. To me, it’s not about what is happening in the now, it is what the OTPHJ is leading to in the future.

We barely made it into her house before our clothes started flying off. I had no idea if she had any roommates or not (she did), and at that point, I couldn’t have cared less. I remember having her bent over the kitchen counter, and I was going at it pretty hard. There was a jar of fruit next to us that somehow had not gotten knocked off. I grabbed a peach and started eating it. In a moment of drunken self-reflection, I began chuckling to myself at the absurdity of how great my life was at that moment. I was at what may very well have been my pinnacle. I was eating a delicious Georgia peach, while pounding a delicious Georgia peach, while having an absolute babe passed out back in my hotel room. Those thoughts were quickly brushed aside when she turned around and began giving me a blow job with ice in her mouth. It was so good that I didn’t need to fake it this time.

After we finished up in the kitchen, Brianna asked me if I wanted to stay the night. I told her I really needed to get back to the hotel before 7 a.m., because I had some fraternity bullshit to be at. So she took me back to the hotel at 6 a.m., where I stumbled in to find Melanie still passed out and none the wiser to what had just occurred. That Friday night was certainly one of the best nights of my life. As awesome as Friday was, though, is how fucking crazy Saturday ended up being.

  1. OmegaCollections

    I’m thoroughly impressed by the level of detail that went into this farce.

    10 years ago at 2:18 pm
    1. Unchecked_White_Privilege

      Who would plan a formal 1,000 miles away? (15 hours xSpeed Limit).
      Unless everyone skipped class on Monday, they would have had to leave Savannah around 3:00 pm just to make it back to campus by 6:00 am. If it’s fiction it’s a good story. If it’s being sold as non-fiction I’m skeptical.

      10 years ago at 2:42 pm
      1. Unchecked_White_Privilege

        Sure. But according to this story they arrived around 4:00 pm on Friday, which means they left campus around 1:00 am in Friday. Why?
        Let’s assume formal happened on Saturday and everyone checked out around noon on Sunday and went to Lunch. They leave Savannah by 1:30 pm. Fifteen hours later they arrive on campus at 4:30-5:00 am on Monday morning and go to class 3 hours later?
        This reminds me of the story about the guy who went to Keeneland in Lexington and his bro banged a pageant winner in the Daniel Boone cabin.

        10 years ago at 3:05 pm
      2. AEKDBallin

        The math works – until you realize the hole in the theory is that this fuck has no concept of time. He states he was tindering for an hour (but it was really 10 minutes), his warped sense of time shows us that it is possible the bus trip was only 150minutes, or 2.5 hours. This would lend credence to a 4pm arrival

        10 years ago at 4:17 pm
      3. Unchecked_White_Privilege

        In his previous articles about the midget stripper and blowing foal money on gambling and strippers he stated that he goes to college in Texas. Even from the Easternmost part of Texas it is a 13 hour drive to Savannah.

        10 years ago at 4:34 pm
      4. The Therapist

        We arrived in Savannah around 8:30pm after leaving roughly around 5am. Monday and Tuesday were fall break. Giving people ample time to recover from the weekend after getting back.

        10 years ago at 6:16 pm
    2. UncleSamsGrandson

      Pretty sure this Brianna was our fraternity bike here at Ga Southern. So nice to meet you eskimo bro.

      10 years ago at 3:13 pm
      1. Unchecked_White_Privilege

        Still doesn’t fit, therapist. According to your description your hotel was in downtown Savannah. The driving time between Savannah and Statesboro is about 70 minutes. If Brianna was a student and Greek at Georgia Southern and drove 30 miles to get you that means she live 30 minutes from her campus. Why does she live nearly 30 miles from her campus if she is Greek?
        I’m sure if she was a sorority girl she would have told you and there would be evidence of her letters in the apartment.

        10 years ago at 3:35 pm
      2. FBR

        I mean maybe her family lives in savannah. Shut up trying to find holes in his story, who gives a shit.

        10 years ago at 4:30 pm
    1. Puddles10

      Agreed, but, “Never letting the truth get in the way of a good story”. TFM.

      10 years ago at 3:28 pm
    1. Rihanna Deserved It

      if you’re wearing a condom its easy as hell. if you’re not, its still easy – pull out and spit on her back

      10 years ago at 3:20 pm
    2. JackDanielsrunning

      When she’s on top and need to make a clean getaway I just moan after a cleanly executed hip escape and start putting my pants on. Then the next step is to assume they bought it.

      10 years ago at 3:08 pm