KENTUCKY vs. LOUISVILLE
Jack H.
Lexington, KY

Last year me and my buddies from Lexington went to Louisville to party, hit some bars and hopefully hook up with some hotties from our rival, the University of Louisville. We arrived around midnight and started drinking, talking to women and having a pretty good time. The night seemed to be going downhill, though, until we arrived at the third and final bar of the night. I went to the bathroom and en route accidentally knocked over a scorching redhead's drink. I apologized to her and offered to buy her a new one. She said okay, and we started to talk.

Soon we were flirting and I kissed her on the neck. I didn't remember to tell my friends, who were waiting outside the bar. It seemed like I had been talking to the redhead for only a few minutes, but it was actually half an hour. Then I remembered my friends were outside. I asked her to wait so I could see where they were.

I called them, but they didn't answer. I thought, To hell with it, and headed back to the hottie. When I said I had no ride home to Lexington since my friends left, she told me I could stay at her apartment for the night and she'd give me a ride home in the morning. I liked that plan because I was on cloud nine and would do anything to get into her pants.

We headed up to her place, which was quiet except for her four cats. After playing with the cats, I just wanted to play with the redhead's pussycat. I finally did after some vodka shots. We headed to her room and had mad-wild sex. It was the best lay of my life. I couldn't believe it and didn't want to go home in the morning, except to tell my friends about the great sex I had.

Unfortunately, things went sour before I got home. I woke up that morning, looked around and the redhead wasn't in bed. I got up, threw my boxers back on and looked outside. Her car was gone, too. I put the rest of my clothes on and sat on the couch, watched some SportsCenter and waited. Ten minutes went by and I heard someone walking up the steps. My heart pounded like crazy. The door opened and the redhead walked in, but in the background was a bald guy who was dressed in all black and had a stare that would melt Vin Diesel. He walked in, looked around, checked her room and didn't say a word.

"You ready?" the redhead said to me.

"Yeah," I said, and we all walked to her car. Neither the dude nor the redhead said another word until we got on the highway. For the next 20 minutes, the redhead and the guy were silent. They eventually started talking to each other, then suddenly the guy turned around and looked at me with a deadly stare.

"Are you the one that's been messing with my girl?" he asked.

"No," I said. "I just met her at a bar last night and was abandoned by my friends. She offered me a place to stay and she promised me a ride back."

"Well," he said, "I've been engaged to her for over three years and I know there's someone messing around with her." At that point, we were about 10 minutes from my home so I told them to let me off. I thanked them for the ride and apologized for the confusion. As I pretended to walk into a nearby house, the boyfriend delivered one parting shot.

"Man, if I find out it's you," he said as he drove away, "your life is over."

I never heard back from the redhead or her boyfriend, but I learned a valuable lesson that day: Never trust Cardinals or redheads. But what a story I told my friends!