Here’s a New Year’s Resolution for you: no more horror story hookups!
We graced you with stories submitted by Trendzz readers for Christmas this year. Now, in this installment of our holiday hookup horror stories, we’re going to take a look at everybody’s favorite overrated holiday: New Year’s Eve. There’s nothing wrong with ringing in the New Year with some libations and laughter, but moderation is always key. If you have big plans to usher in 2017, remember: keep your expectations low and, as always, stay cool. If not—well, let these cautionary tales appeal to your better self.
My girlfriend at the time and I were invited up North to celebrate 2011 with another couple at their ski lodge. We pulled up to their place and it was basically a mansion overlooking this small, frozen lake. The place was stunning, and they’d really outdone themselves. They were serving lobster, steak—a really impressive spread, and they had this champagne fridge loaded with bottles of Veuve Clicquot and Moet & Chandon. This is all to say that they’d done everything up fancy. By nine, we were all feeling really, really good. My girlfriend, Erin, was maybe feeling too good. She was a lightweight, so she’d kind of sagged into the couch, totally passed out. This was when things got… weird. Chris, the other guy just up and disappeared. To where? Who knows.
So I was alone with his girlfriend and a passed out Erin. His girlfriend told me she wanted to show me something, so she led me out of the den and into the living room. She turned on this weird, like old school crooner music, then turned to me, all seductive, and started saying: “Is this what you want, Teddy Bear?” I started to make out with her, even though I was a bit put off, until I noticed Chris standing in the door frame, filming us on his phone. I freaked. If I could’ve, I would have driven us out of there. The next morning, they made us eggs Benedict like nothing had happened. We never hung out with them again. I still wonder to this day, who was the weirdest couple in that situation…
For 2015, I had the choice to stay home and celebrate with friends and family, or return to my dorm and celebrate with my college friends. I chose the latter, sadly (hindsight’s 20/20, right?). Along with my group of closely-knit friends, I’d purchased overpriced tickets to an event at a pretty swanky nightclub which was where we’d planned on ringing in the New Year. So we were all gathered in our dorm, music cranked, decked out, pounding back vodka shots in anticipation of what was certain to be the best night of the year.
It was like eight and our pre-drink had gotten pretty rowdy. Turns out I was maybe the rowdiest of all. So rowdy, in fact, that I found myself praying at the toilet. My roommate came in to check on me. I kind of remember her telling me I should probably stay behind. I agreed and instead of tucking myself into bed like a reasonable person, I decided to curl up in the fucking bathtub. I woke up to the sound of heavy panting and moaning. It was probably around three a.m. I staggered out of the bathroom and who did I see? My roommate on top of a guy I was really into at the time. I just turned around and went back to that sad, lonely bathtub. Fml.
I hate New Year’s. If they haven’t been straight up terrible, then they’ve only ever been underwhelming. One year, it was 2008, we had plans to join a larger group at a nightclub downtown. Nine rolled around and Brian, our de facto leader, you could say, decided ‘f*ck it’. We’d spent like sixty dollars each on the tickets for some event, but he wanted to go to a low key house party with these “chill” people he knew, instead. Eventually we agreed, probably because he promised to spot us back, though he never did. We walked into this suburban home, absolutely packed shoulder to shoulder with people, and Brian took off, so it was just me and my other friend, Will, without a clue of who anyone was. We scored some booze and just kind of stuck to the wall while the night progressed. Eventually, I started feeling a bit better about things, so I dropped Will and did the circuit, looked for people to chat with for a bit.
This girl, all giggly and friendly, approached me and we started hitting it off. She was really cute, so I thought I’d press my luck a bit. I asked her if she’d like to move somewhere a bit quieter, where we could talk easier and all that. Most rooms were in use, so we ended up in the basement. It was one of those cold, damp, creepy basements, but I didn’t really give a f*ck and neither did she. We started hooking up, just in the middle of the room, a hanging lightbulb keeping things sort of bright. Anyways, she started going down on me and I kind of tilted my head back and closed my eyes.
I heard a terrible, terrible yell. Like a deep, growling yell. I opened my eyes and she was suddenly dressed, back to the wall, all guilty looking.
There was this huge, biker guy at the foot of the steps, blocking the stairway up, and he started telling me he was going to kill me. I went soft in a second, I won’t lie. Somehow, I managed to slide past him. I found Will, then Brian and I told him what’d happened. I thought he was going to just tell me to sort it out on my own, but even he looked freaked out, so we bounced very quickly. Ends up, the biker guy was a very dangerous dude, and the girl I’d scored with was his girlfriend. On our way home, we hit a RIDE checkpoint… Let’s just put it this way, Brian wasn’t sober. Sounds like adventures straight out of a movie right? Right.. that’s what I was telling myself the whole f*cking time… Man, I wished it was a dream.
Do you have an embarrassing holiday horror story? Let us know by emailing it to firstname.lastname@example.org!