It was Memorial Day two years ago. After a solid 12 hours of drinking, we somehow ended up back at our old #111 High School friends’ place in Dewey Beach. As we chugged their beers and threw hot dogs at their fans, it was clear that we were quickly wearing out our welcome. Then out of nowhere, I was approached by one of the girls staying in the house, “Hey, do you smoke #70 weed?” Now, normally I’m not a real big pot smoker, but over the years, I’ve learned that if a girl asks you to smoke weed alone with her, YOU SMOKE THAT FUCKING WEED. I turned to my bro and whispered, “I’m gonna go smoke some drugs and have some sex – I’ll see you tomorrow.”
So we headed downstairs to the back porch where we smoked a bowl and within 10 minutes she was #52 riding me in a fucking beach chair. After our “love making” I got her number since she promised some daytime banging and made my way back to my beach house. As I passed out drunk, high, and laid, I was on top of the fucking World. Little did I know what I had just gotten myself into.
The next day, after spending 5 hours at the Starboard, I thought the time was right for romance. Wanting to show off my latest takedown, I brought my bros along to check her out, which ultimately turned out to be the biggest mistake of my life. As she emerged from her house one of my bros literally fell on the ground laughing. Another looked at me in disbelief and screamed, “I thought you said you banged a girl – not the main character from fucking ‘Ratatouille’.” My mind started racing: This couldn’t be the same girl. Was I really that fucked up? She was much better looking last night in the pitch dark. I couldn’t have? I did. I fucked a busted chick.
For the past two years, even though I’ve more than made up for it with the quality of my slam pieces, my bros haven’t let me forget about this tragic, unforgivable act - nor should they. No matter how high you get, bros always know how to bring you down – they just open those closet doors and bring out your fucking skeletons.
Now I know there are bros out there smashing their fucking keyboards and screaming, possibly with tears in their eyes, “WHAT THE FUCK NYB!! BROS ONLY BANG DIMES!!” Bros aren’t fucking delusional. No matter who you are or how many fucking #95 models you’ve slayed, there’s at least one busted chick on your resume. I mean, come on, it’s not our fucking fault. Combining enough alcohol to kill a German shepherd with our #109 incredible good looks, we’re bound to encounter some scud missiles looking to destroy our reputation. It’s really an occupational hazard. Even though banging trolls is not technically our fault, true bros should never let their friends just get away with that shit. The only way we as a people can continue to bang the hottest slam pieces is by ensuring settling for anything sub-7 is never an option.
While most dumb mistakes like impregnating a girl can be #24 quickly corrected with no mental or physical side effects whatsoever, when bros know you banged a fucking fatty, they’ll never let you hear the end of it. My bros like to name their #62 fantasy teams after ugly girls one of us has banged or if we’re bored we’ll just friend her on facebook to look through her pictures while making #48 puking noises. Another fun game is pointing out all the disgusting things you would rather bang than the girl in question. Examples might include farm animals, people who have been dead for years, or Kirstie Alley.
Knowing your bros’ skeletons is fucking clutch because it essentially gives you a free pass. Sure for the past three months you’ve been ragging on your bro for banging a girl with a face like Scarecrow from “Batman Begins,” but that doesn’t necessarily mean you’re a hypocrite for nailing some slut with fucking jellyrolls pouring out of her top. Sure she’s fat as shit, but whatever, you’re fucking hammered and that bra makes her boobs look huge. Besides, no matter what your bros say, you can always bring it back to the ugly girls they’ve banged and shut their asses up. This usually leads to the debate as to who banged the ugliest girl. But please note, no matter who technically “wins” the argument, there truly are no winners.
When Bros get together, we don’t fucking talk about the news. We don’t fucking talk about how work is going or what classes we’re taking next semester. Our conversations revolve around three main topics: Sports, Girls we’re trying to bang, and most importantly the Girls we’ve already banged. Sure it’s great to talk about all the pipe you’ve laid to hot chicks, but there’s nothing better than giving your bros shit for banging busted bitches. This weekend, as your bro is cozying up to some Robin Williams look-alike at the bar, let the magic happen. He might think it’s just a one-night stand, but much like Herpes – skeletons fucking last forever.