Storytime: The Battle for Allison
This is a story about a friendly competition among two friends that would change the course of their lives forever. And by “forever”, I mean one night. So come take a journey with me, back to a time when the pop charts were ruled by Sean Kingston and Fergie, and when it was still possible for me to walk out of a RiteAid holding a 30-rack of cheap beer while still hanging on to a shred of dignity. I’m talking about a little place called…college.
Winter Break was upon us. Finals were over, and most of the campus, including half of my suite-mates, had gone home for the holidays. Myself and two friends remained. Let’s call them Larry and Will. A group of Larry’s friends from home were coming into town, and so it was planned: a raucous night of beer pong and shenanigans.
Much to the delight of myself and Will, this group was of mixed gender. Shout-out to Larry for not simply filling the void of our absent suite-mates with replacement dong. He set the scene: “Along with some dudes, there are three girls coming. Two of them are single, and two of them are hot.” Spoiler Alert: only one of them was single and hot. Will and I started revving the charm engines, knowing that each other would pose our only competition for the night.
Now, here’s the thing about Will. He’s a great friend to have around, because he’s funny, always up for activity, and always down for a party. He’s also quite handsome and very charming, and thus can make for a great wingman. But he’s also not the sharpest tool in the shed. He’s the type of guy who still ties his shoes using the bunny-ears method. Not just the type of guy; he actually still ties his shoes using the bunny-ears method.
Will and I also made up a formidable beer pong team. Despite the devastating second-round upset we had suffered in the tournament our suite hosted earlier in the semester, we were not a team you wanted to face. And this mysterious hot girl was not the only thing we were both trying to win that night. We wanted to show Larry’s outsider friends how we rolled, so we decided to partner up.
So Larry’s friends arrive just after nightfall. And in walks this total stunner. Tall, slender, bright brown hair and a freckly face. “PleaseLetThatBeTheSingleOne, PleaseLetThatBeTheSingelOne,” Will and I thought to ourselves, and thinking it so loud I’m surprised the entire room didn't hear it. Turns out, our thoughts were answered. Let’s call her Allison.
It wasn't long before red cups were placed in their sacred arrangement and filled with beer. We let Larry and the visitors have the first few games, but Will and I had our names on the “We Got Next” List. However before we played, people got hungry. Plus we were going to need more beer anyway, so we went out to eat.
It was a large group of us sitting at the Mexican restaurant, and by sheer coincidence, I had Will on my left, Allison on my right. We’re all having a grand old time, and inevitably the conversation turns to the beer pong that awaits us back home. Allison innocently states that she needs a partner to play with. Now, I fully admit: the thought passed through my head. “There’s an opportunity here.” But because I have an ounce of integrity, I let the thought pass.
At the very moment that sequence of thoughts pass my consciousness, to my horror, the following words come out of Will’s mouth: “I’ll play with ya.” Now, not only was our partnership etched on that waiting list, entrenched in the public record. But this vile being had just shit all over the concept of Bros Before Hoes—nay!—on the concept of loyalty itself!
Somehow, I’m still friends with this guy.
Later, while moseying around at the drug store (where they also sold beer), the battle of wits continued. Will did the thing where he steps on Allison’s shoelace so her shoe comes untied. Childish, but a tried and true method of flirtation. Knowing that anyone who reads above a 3rd-grade level has long abandoned the bunny-ears method for the wrap-around method, I seize the opportunity for the tiniest of bonding moments with Allison. As she leans down to tie her shoe, I ask her, “you go with the bunny-ears or the wrap-around?” I can conversationally box out Will here and at least get a high five. But no! Will immediately claims he uses the wrap-around, and totally steals the high five that was teed up by me!
In retrospect, this moment was my failure. Right then and there, I should have untied Will’s shoe, and asked him to demonstrate, leaving him shamed and humiliated. Alas, the night continued, with me in a significant hole, dug by my own friend, using those tools known as deceit and dishonor.
But I had one card left to play. Will had a flight very early the next morning, and he hadn't packed yet. So as the night went on, and as Will and I exchanged plenty of glances—he with a shit-eating grin on his face, me just shaking my head—I vowed to wait for the crucial moment. When the time was right, I’d announce a reminder to Will that he should probably go pack his bags if he wanted to make his flight, and with him out of the picture, I’d swoop.
But in his one moment of legitimate brilliance, Will completely flipped that script on me. “Hey Allison, you want to come help me pack?” And that was all it took.
Allison is now a distant and hilarious memory to the both of us. Will has grown quite a bit since then, as exemplified by his wedding scheduled for this summer. Although it seems some things never change: when Will met his lovely fiancee, she had a boyfriend. As for me, I’ll be in attendance, probably competing for bride’s maids.
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