The White Jacket

During my junior year of college, my boyfriend of two years, Grant and I split amicably after two months of arguments. We both decided we wanted to do our own thing for awhile. Predictably, after two weeks of sleeping alone, no dinner dates, and no sex, I decided I had made a terrible mistake and wanted him back. It seemed he wanted nothing to do with me; he was having too much fun making out with girls in bars and didn’t want to commit. I was hurt, but decided to not push it, figuring he would come to his senses eventually.

Three months later, his fraternity was having a wine mixer with another fraternity, and one of his brothers invited me and my friends. My plan was to look hot, get drunk on free wine, flirt with some other guys and hopefully let him see a little of what he was missing.

I was three drinks in when I arrived and found him cuddled up on one of the couches with a girl, Mandy. I knew through mutual friends that they had been hanging out for awhile. I tried to avoid them as I pounded glass after glass of wine, leaving rooms when they would enter and throwing myself on other guys. It seemed to be working; I was having a good time and was getting plenty of attention from everyone but him.

After five or six glasses, I really had to pee. The bathroom normally reserved for girls was occupied and I couldn’t hold it, so I made a mad dash to the secret basement bathroom. The whole floor was deserted. After I finished, I drunkenly wandered into Grant’s study room, two doors down. I think my plan was to look up something on his computer. I plopped myself on his couch and discovered his computer was dead. I was too intoxicated to find the charger, so I looked around, gathering up the gumption to get myself back upstairs. At the other end of the couch, I noticed a coat. A white coat with a light blue pattern. Upon closer inspection, I discovered it was a size small. It definitely wouldn’t fit Grant’s 6’5” frame. I rationalized that it had to be Mandy’s coat. Who else’s would it be?

Slowly, my face got hot and my heart started pounding. Who did she think she was, leaving her things all over like she owned the place? Seemingly disconnected from my body, I watched as my hand picked up my glass of red wine, and dumped it all over the inside of the white coat. It looked like a giant bloodstain. Satisfied, I got up, and rejoined the party.

Two hours later, Grant had taken Mandy home, come back to the party, told me I looked great, taken me into his study room, and grabbed me by the waist and kissed me. Then he pulled away a little and asked, “Did you pour wine on Mandy’s coat?”

“No way!” I told him. The sex that night was great. — Lindsay Bache

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