House of Trouser: The Game Plan

We love The Tarlets' here at The View From The Afternoon, but we also realise it's a bit unfair on the unfairer sex to not get their point of view in the fields of love, life and getting laid at university. And so we introduce The House of Trouser, candid, a lot disturbing and utterly amazeballs.

It’s the morning after the night before and apart from the almighty headache that precedes any Wednesday night, all seems relatively normal in the house. I slowly assess the state of my room, aghast to discover that for the first time in months, no practical jokes have been performed at my expense following a ‘Fuzzies-frenzy’. My desk has not been over-turned, my drawers have not been emptied and there is no trace of urine in the sink. No one has shat on my bed! Yet rather than feeling an overwhelming sense of joy I am left suspiciously pondering what or who could have possibly deterred my three hell-raising housemates from their late-night, loutish traditions.

You see, I live with three very outgoing young gentlemen, who for legal reasons cannot be named. Therefore in the continuing story I will simply refer to them as Snap, Crackle and Pop. By day these men are what most people would consider to be the average male students, they love to cook, hate to clean, adore the gym, loathe waking up before midday and in an ideal world they would have Jeremy Clarkson running the country. However, under the cover of darkness these well-educated and well-mannered individuals transform, like creatures from a Stephanie Meyer novel, into senseless, Strongbow-savages with an eye for only two things, “booze and birds.”

I have spent more than 3 entire semesters now observing these testosterone fuelled specimens and I will recount some of their most awful, dirty, promiscuous and shocking tales where I can. This particular morning as I ambiguously analyse the remarkable state my room, I begin to hear signs of life three storeys below. Intrigued, I venture downstairs hurdling miscellaneous garments (both male and female) on the way to find Snap, Crackle and Pop proudly perched upon the kitchen top, ceremoniously divulging over the events of the evening.

This Wednesday evening begins inevitably in a particularly unvaried routine.

7pm pre-lash at the house.

I depart for a comprehensively less eventful evening, with the sound of shot glasses crashing against the stone floor as I shut the front door. What follows proves to be pure mess. Three fag burns in the carpet, two lines of meth for Pop - most likely crushed with light bulbs by his shady ‘friend’ who sells it. One trip to the toilet to break the seal, another for a shit which they will brag about afterwards, fifteen inappropriate jokes about how they want to fuck Crackle’s mum, thirty minutes of ‘fives’ and seven hair checks (EACH) in the mirror. By now Pop is feeling the placebo effect, announcing his admiration for his fellow housemates and how proud he is to call them ‘brothers.’

8:30pm girls arrive

Then Snap and Pop’s female friend from the house opposite (who is also, and I quote their “greatest accomplishment”) arrives with three of her housemates each firmly clutching a bottle of Blossom Hill. Two more of their friends join ten minutes later including ‘S’ (that has slept with all three) and her unassuming boyfriend.

Like true hosts the boys fix their guests each a drink in the kitchen.

Earlier that day: ‘Vodka, like rohypnol only legal mate!’

Whilst away from the guests the boys decide that this is the perfect opportunity to decipher ‘the game plan.’ This is not flimsily thought out, but instead carefully constructed with chat-up procedures, if necessary unfaultable lines, escape procedures should the subject become too clingy, character personas and should desires conflict, the infamous shotgun rule.

8:40pm – Game plan initiate!

They return with drinks. Pop, pupils now the size of Polos takes up the ‘scout’ role and enters a deep conversation with S’s boyfriend distracting him from the subtle flirting that has now ensued between S and Crackle. Whilst this proceeds Snap entertains the remaining ladies with his flaring skills, scaring them witless as a heavily intoxicated amateur, hurls and twirls large and very heavy glass vodka bottles inches from their face.

Girls: “Wow you’re really good at that, did you work in one of those fancy cocktail bars?”

Snap: “Well I do go to Majorca every summer and once the barman at Diego’s let me make some drinks.’”

Girls: “So, no then?”

9:30pm: The banter is drying up, so its time to head to the Hob to join the Rugby Crew and inappropriately leer at the minority of girls within the establishment who are all wearing corsets… Wasn’t the theme Army Night?

Crackle is continuing to persue the already spoken for S, whose boyfriend is still trapped in a conversation with the relentlessly gum-chewing Pop about why Jeremy Clarkson is the perfect candidate for the conservatives in the next general election. The next hour apparently flies by due to the “off the chain” atmosphere and because after half an hour of searching, the three-piece have found ‘the lads.’ Crackle has left S by this point,

Crackle: “I felt that I had put in enough ground work to let her mull things over for a bit.”

The next half an hour involves heavy drinking, abusive pointing and conversing through shouting, grunts and chants.

10:30pm: Fuzzies!!!

(This is the point in the story when my housemates describe the scene in the only way they know how…)

Snap: “Mmmmmmate we were knee deep in pussy yea.”

Crackle: “Wading through the place we were, I was up to my neck in gash!”

Pop: “That’s why Snap wore his Hunters!”

After three hours of institutional fellowship, brotherhood and general banter the three housemates have one final drink, assess the battlefield and wish each other all the success before individually heading into the masses. These males are the sort of creatures who operate alone. Apparently it’s easier to get a girl to bone you if you’re not with loads of mates. Strict believers and religious followers of the game plan, these guys don’t immediately pounce on the girl the actually want to shag, but approach the friend first, in the hope this will be followed by an introduction. Then a whisper in her ear about how strange/awkward/lame the situation is to instantly put her at ease. The guard is down and you’re in!

11:00pm: “Buy her the first drink, one should be enough.”

11:30pm: Crackle finds S and sure enough, the boyfriend wasn’t having a great time so he has left. The two find a relatively quiet and conveniently dark corner to talk, in which Crackle informs, S that she is too good for that guy and there are much better guys (like himself) out there. Meanwhile Snap’s flamboyance continues as he attempts to woo a young lady by incorporating her in a few dance moves that he presumably learnt in Majorca, lifting and throwing the girl around the room before grinding against her leg as if he had an itch in his crotch area, and no limbs to scratch it.

12:00pm: The boys head home after an hour and a half in Fuzzies, a new record!

At this point, as we sit in the kitchen overlaying the night’s proceedings and a seemingly faultless game plan, one member of the group is keeping rather quiet. Pop’s night had run slightly off track whilst deeply conversing with the neighbor’s boyfriend so once in Fuzzies, to switch that light bulb back on, he went upstairs to shake a tail feather. Whilst dancing to another timeless classic from Calvin Harris he stumbled, knocking a girl’s drink down her dress. Unfazed, Pop turned what could have been a potential slap into an opportunity by informing the girl he did it on purpose to get her away from her friends… The charmer!

After several hours of vigorous gyrating the two headed back to her house and up to her room unconcerned about locking the door or turning on any of the lights as they chewed one another’s faces off. After a few moments the girl kindly offered Pop a drink and headed downstairs. Pop decided at this point to be productive and take off his trousers; only in doing so he spilled all his loose change on the floor. Frustrated by the dark, Pop decided to turn the light on to seek that vital taxi fare home.

02:30am: “The girl was one of them gothic types!”

To his dismay, in turning on the light Pop had uncovered a room draped in SlipKnot and Korn posters, as well as a few skulls and a lot of black furniture. Now to any young male this would be slightly disturbing, but for a rugby playing, Baywatch raving, Jeremy Clarkson enthusiast who is still considerably under the influence of M-Cat this becomes a nightmare.

02:35am: Pop grabs his shoes, wallet, shirt, trousers and flees. Too scared there is not enough time to dress, he charges down the stairs and out the door before gothic-girl has time to notice.

There is now a new rule for the game plan. - In the event of going back to ‘hers,’ always locate your nearest exits before casual sex.