When She Slaps You

The other night, walking to my friends house from Russian club, I invited a freshman girl to join us in a night of drinking and smoking (shisha). I’d known her for about a month and had a few interesting conversations. Besides one red flag about her parents, her views seemed slightly sympathetic to mine so I thought nothing of the invite, except whether my host would mind. Because this girl was a mutual friend of ours I figured it was fine.

I arrived with her and made myself a drink. She took up the whole couch and when she didn’t move, I contented myself by making a seat out of her stomach. My host, a junior, kept asking me in French:

C’est quoi ca?

And I’d always reply back to her with:

C’est rien.

The freshman I was sitting on wasn’t ugly, but she was a little pudgy. Her face was cute enough with sizeable tits but I was more interested in her freshmen friends. I had no intentions other than a platonic friendship. When she got up and then placed herself under my left arm, I could tell that maybe she thinks differently. No matter.

My best friend joined us that evening and proceeded to join in with drinking and smoking.

For some reason we were talking and then the freshman girl slapped me, softly. I slapped her back, with only a little force. She slapped me a second time and I stared her in the eyes.

“I’ll slap you again…” she says.

“I’ll slap you harder…,” I reply, “are you sure you want to play this game.”

“Oh you’re serious…I’m sorry.”

I walked up to make myself a drink and then sat back down, a little solemn. Soon after she left in order to “rescue her friend from boredom”. And the night’s merriment continued without delay. Eventually, my friend and I left to get back to barracks. He told me that he agreed with what I did and he didn’t know why I even invited the girl back to the Kremlin (name of our hangout) in the first place. He could tell she was trouble right from the start he said. On our way back we bumped into that very same freshman girl and her asian friend. She informed me that this was the friend who was visiting her in the same town in which I reside. Alcohol had started to take its toll on my mind, so I can’t remember if she was good looking or just plain.

I stumbled back into my room, played some chess, and passed out.

The next morning I got a text at 0757hrs:

Sorry for slapping you yesterday…

I replied at 1441hrs:

Don’t let it happen again and we’ll get along fine.

I’m not a fan of people touching my face; even girlfriends learn to do it certain way. I have zero tolerance for slapping, joking or otherwise. I always make it clear that I am perfectly willing to retaliate with full force. Thankfully, I’ve never had to exercise my “belief” in equality.

~Wald

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