Sweet and Sour Sauce

If there is one valuable lesson I have learned from being at a highly international college it’s that you men are pigs no matter what country they are from. The only difference is the amount of subtly they use when into trying to get into your pants.
Like most girls I can’t help but be attracted to athletes. Their toned bodies in peak condition, the way they think they are the hottest shit to ever exist. What’s not to love?
Every fall the there is a huge party after the athletic awards banquet. The whole school gathers to get smashed and hump each other to electronica music. This year I had the misfortune of being the designated driver to witness this spectacle sober.
Before I tell you what happened next I think it would be appropriate to mention that my pack of girlfriends is notorious for being the drunkest, wildest girls at the party. We like to think that we are the ones that get the parties started. When in reality it’s probably just that we are intoxicated and crazy enough to draw the attention away from anyone else that may be nervous about embarrassing themselves.
We arrived at the party like a hell on wheels. Not even making it to the door without Chloe, one of my best girlfriends, pulling her skirt up to chest and squatting on the ground to pee. I wasn’t even that shocked. This was pretty typical behavior.
Once inside the unsuspecting basketball players were accosted by our army of tiny alcoholics. Though everyone but Adeline measured it at less than 5’3 they were not shy about shoving the boys against the wall and showing them their skills.
All I could do was stand back and shrug. I had no control over them and made no attempt to control the situation. I learned the first few times I went out with my girl pack that I wasn’t expected to stop them from doing embarrassing things, just make sure they got back home in one piece.
Becoming sick of the boys lack of interest in their ass shaking my Chloe, Adeline and two of the other girls Savannah and Keisha surrounded me and began their dropping low it and hair flipping routine.
I imagine from their perspective they were seeing themselves looking like the Pussy Cat Dolls and being the sexiest girls there. In reality I was defending my face from all the hair that was going in my mouth and ended up with my toes stepped on an awful lot.
It looked like I would be on my own for the night on account of the fact that my friends were to drunk to even dance with, without getting injured. I ventured to the edge of the room and attempted to strike up a conversation with a particularly hot New Zealander.
“Sorry about my friends,” I shouted over the music.
“They’re just having fun I guess,” the hot hulk of a guy replied.
“Yeah, I just kind of let them get as drunk as they want until they burn out, but I just don’t have the energy to be doing that kind of dancing all night long.”
“Yeah,” he responded.
Well that conversation is clearly over. My best guess is that guys were looking for those semi-drunk girls that weren’t on the verge of passing out but would be clouded in their judgment and easier to get in their bedroom.
Little did the New Zealander know he was on my list. No alcohol is required to get into my pants when you have a body like that. But I couldn’t just give it all away like that so I had to go prowl for another boy to make my entertainment for the night.
Maybe it was just an off night or the realization that parties like that can never be fun without alcohol but I just ended up dancing with some guy friends and wishing it was time to go home.
At one point I ended up talking to a Brazilian who had very limited English (This is a reoccurring theme in my life and this boy will make another appearance later on.) Our conversation went like this.
“You have very beautiful smile,” he said with a thick accent.
“Thanks. I get that a lot,” I responded not particularly impressed.
“I like you very much.”
“Oh, thanks.”
“No, I like you very much. You believe me?”
Oh I believed him. The fact that his hands had begun to head south of border on my backside was proof enough. As I was preparing my response my mouth was stopped from talking by his tongue trying to do what I can only imagine was taste my face.
“Whoa! I have to go,” I yelled over the music as I pushed myself away and back inside to the party. Well that wasn’t exactly what I was looking for to have a good time tonight. Bummed out I found my friends and we started to make our escape from the party.

Back at the dorms with all of my drunk friends safely in their own rooms I decided that the only thing that could turn this night around was some greasy french fries. While exiting my dorm building I ran into a basketball player named Big Nick. I could instantly tell that he was also heavily intoxicated, partly because I could smell the alcohol on him and the fact that he was using my butt cheeks to steady himself (How many times can a girl get groped in one night!).
I told him of my plan to get food and without missing a beat he told me to come by his room to hang out when I got back. It would also be good to note that it was about 2 AM at this point. A little bit late for a casual hang out. Not in the mood to deal with any of this I promised to call when I got back to our building and promptly made my way to my car.
Once I finally acquired my delicious McDonald’s I planned on making a beeline straight for my room. But that would be way to good of luck for a girl like me.
When I was within 10 feet of my door I ran into an attractive but feisty Chilean that lived on my floor. He had dark hair cut into a faux hawk and large dark brown eyes. His skin had a golden tint to it but I wouldn’t consider it to be particularly dark or tan. But the distinctive thing about him wasn’t his South American ethnicity; it was his rat-tail that was held neatly in the back by a silver ring with a small black tribal design on it. The ring matched his earrings. The idea of a rat-tail being anything but disturbing is usually true in most cases but his seemed to give him a kind of bad boy edge that only he could probably pull off. Though he was just in the process of learning English we had, had some pretty funny conversations and I considered him a friend.
“Mickey D’s!” the Chilean exclaimed. “I come to your room. Leave your door.”
I have also discovered that Chilean’s have an obsession with McDonalds but only refer to it as Mickey D’s. Curious about this I looked to see if they had McDonalds at home and found that while they do they are much more rare, only two or three per large city, and have a completely different menu.
Luckily I had gotten chicken nuggets, which are easier to share with someone than most of their other menu items. Alejandro, that was the Chilean’s name, came and plopped down on my bed ready to chow down on my nuggets. He picked up the sauce packet and then inquired as to what it was.
“Sweet and sour?” he tested the words out in English.
“It’s my favorite sauce,” I answered.
“What is it?”
“Well, it’s like… well sweet.” I had never had to describe how it tasted to anyone else before and I knew all the other words I could use to would be out of his range of English vocabulary.
Turns out, Alejandro was rather fond of sweet and sour sauce, as he generously dipped his nuggets into it. We talked mostly about soccer, the sport he was in the states on a scholarship to play. At one point in conversation he leaned in and kissed me. I was taken back but not upset by his move on me, just a little shocked. After that he acted like nothing had happened and we continued to just eat and talk.
When we were nearly done with the food he said probably the most forward but ballsy thing a boy has every said to me to this day.
“Can I take my pants off?”
He came in, ate my McDonalds just barely kisses me once then takes it all the way to taking his pants off? I was so stunned by his boldness that I went ahead and told him that, that would fine. He began to undo his belt and pulled out some condoms from his pocket and set them on the night side. At least he was prepared. That has to speak for something right? Since the pants were coming off it only made sense to him to also remove his shirt. Which he did.
Here he was standing in my bedroom nearly naked with the exception of his brightly colored boxer briefs. Another interesting thing is that I’ve never met a South American man that wore boxers, only briefs or boxer briefs that are usually Calvin Klein. I’ve never ask why Calvin Klein is the only brand they wear but I’d be curious to know why.
He was a more aggressive lover than any other boy I have ever been with. He bit my lips and my neck so hard that I was sure I would be covered in hickies the next day. But it was strangely attractive. He knew exactly what he was doing and what he wanted out of the situation.
Needless to say we had sex. Rough, incredible sex that has only ever been topped by another boy from Chile but we’ll get to that later on. By the end of it we were both covered in a sheen of sweat and panting.
When talked a little bit more about some of his teammates. He asked me which ones I liked and offered to tell them of my affections. Seeing that I was about to agree to pimp myself out to all of his friends I told him that, that wouldn’t be necessary. He was plenty enough for me, which he really was.
Alejandro rolled over and asked if I would rub his back. Being that he had just done most of the work in pleasing me in the last 45 minutes I obliged. I think I also kind of assumed that the favor would be reciprocated when I was finished.
After I got done working out the knots in his shoulders he got up and pulled on his pants.
“I’m going to go back to my room, okay? Good night.”
Oh, that was a little unexpected. I kind of expected some more intimacy and cuddling. I mean hell his room was only 2 doors down from mine. He could have stayed the night and gone back to his in the morning. He made no attempt to keep the fact that he had just done something inappropriate in my room a secret when he left carrying his shirt and his belt. South American guys have never been very good at the art of subtlety.
Alejandro never came over and demanded anything from me ever again. We also remained friends but I later found out he had been seeing a girl that was a bit of a jealous one. A month or two later she punched a girl in the face at a club for making a move on her boyfriend.
Needless to say I live in constant fear that she will someday find out that I once slept with her boyfriend and come at me with a vengeance. I’m not a fighter and would just take the beating. Hell, I probably even deserve it for not being exactly a classy lady.

In the end I found out that boys would use you for more than just your body. They’ll steal your McDonald’s and make you give them back rubs too!