“Don’t be that girl in college,” warned Blaine’s older brother and buyer for the night. It was the first and last big party I attended before beginning college, and Blaine invited over a bunch of us girls, some baseball players, and her older brother’s friends to her house for a night of drinking.

Knowing my limits was never my strong point and this party was no exception; over the course of the night I had engulfed wine and Mike’s Hard lemonade to the point in which the inebriating effect of both left me puking in Blaine’s bathroom early on in the night. Shelly assumed the position of babysitter, and my belligerence was detracting from what was supposed to be her wild night of drinking. She took great care of me by hiding my drinks, stopping me from playing with the glass chess set on the coffee table, fending off creepy drunk guys and forcing me to put my pants back on after I insisted on showing everyone at the party my new favorite panties. She also fed me pieces of bread in effort to sober me up before I had to go home. I just wanted to hook up with someone, but unfortunately my pick up line of “Want some bread? Not that bread…THIS bread,” coupled with my not-so-seductive leg stroke weren’t quite doing the trick.

Shelly decided to drive me home after I sobered up a bit. Before we left, Blaine’s brother, having witnessed the havoc I caused, imparted his own college wisdom by cautioning me not to be known as “THAT girl.”

My life would be so different should I have heeded his warning.