I made it almost all the way through my freshman year of college without hooking up with anyone from my dorm… and then it happened. Almost inevitably, I did the most stereotypical thing a freshman could do- I committed the dirtiest of crimes. Dormcest. It was sweaty, on the dance floor, alcohol-infused, and just so freshman. Here we go.
Oh, the tennis house. At Cal Poly, boys not a member of a fraternity generally can’t get into said fraternity’s parties. So, when a boy on my floor invited practically my whole building (three hundred people!!) to a tennis team party, the GDI population jumped at the opportunity. Half an hour later, we were rolling with a solid crew to the tennis house. We arrived to beer pong and bumping music, and the party was popping with people from my building. I didn’t hesitate to hit the dance floor with my closest friends, and we were soon happily taking handle pulls from the bottles my floormates were passing around.
About the equivalent to three shots in, I started to feel the happy drunk appear in me. I was having so much fun- smiling for pictures and dancing with my friends. I love to tipsy dance (specifically with boys), and I did just that. Right as I noticed myself spending a little bit more time with one boy in particular, it happened. He leaned in, quite hesitantly, and it happened. We were making out. It was more sophomore homecoming than college party, but I let myself feel all the nostalgia of a high school dance.
Naturally, we ended the night with Taco Bell and a brief talk. In a way, I can already tell we’re going to be better friends because of our little dance floor make out. We were both just having some fun and got a little carried away- it didn’t mean anything. If anything, it’s something to look back and laugh about.
Dormcest crisis averted.