LOST Chapter 18, Verse 3: Not a Head of Lettuce

As promised my loyal compatriots and statesmen and stateswomen, a short tale of college past of yours truly. This story Space Travelers is one less eloquent but honest.

Countdown: 8 days 5 hours 55 minutes

MEMORY #3: Not a Head of Lettuce

So it had been a dry spell for me. I was (am) a young horny male and quite unapologetic about that fact. For whatever reason things had taken a weird turn and odd new symptoms were appearing.

It's hard to describe, but imagine a cat in heat rolling around making a fuss. That was me, except male and homo-sapian.

It was serious. I was out of control. I felt like the walls were closing in, and madness was making it's siege at my castle gate.

So much in fact, that in the night in question, I was trying as hard as I could to figure out how to fix it. It was in those hours of insanity that my mind made a very poor conclusion.

"I'll just go out and get laid."

It FELT (emphasis mine) brilliant, and it took no time for me to spring up out of my chair. However, reality gave chase, and somewhere between putting my jacket on and the door I realized...

"It's not like getting a head of lettuce."

There I stood with my jacket half on too ashamed and confused about what to do. I stood there just waiting; looking for anyway I could forget how stupid the idea was.

I eventually retired to my desk in defeat.

In my many years in college, I had few chances to be really promiscuous. I met a wonderful girl my second year and we were together for 3 years. Had I not met her, who knows what bedtime adventures I would have had.

Hardly a story, but sex seems to be a large part of college.