I was only fifteen when I first fell in love. His name was Danny and he lived three doors down the street from me. Danny would always walk me home from school. I knew that he liked me but I decided to be coy until he asked me out. When the homecoming dance came around, I really wanted him to ask me, but I knew other girls would be asking him, too. But then one day, on one of our walks home, he asked me, “Can I call you tonight? I need to talk to you about something.” That’s when I knew.

Our families met at Danny’s house for homecoming. I’d seen his mom lots of times, but this was the first time I’d met Danny’s dad. I remember he had big hands and he looked younger than his age. While my mom was showing off our family photo album, I took Danny’s dad in my mouth in the laundry room while I stuck a finger up his ass. He wouldn’t let me swallow his…you know…but that was probably a good idea. I can still remember the scent of his balls. My God, he was such a man. But then he slapped me in the face and yelled at me to go upstairs, which is where I probably should have been all along.

Danny and I had a great time at the dance. That helped me forget about that stupid thing I did beforehand. After the dance, we went to a party and Danny had too much to drink. I was only drinking Pepsi that night, so I took Danny’s keys and drove him home. His dad was waiting in the living room, and after he put Danny to bed, we 69′ed under the coffee table as quietly as we could. I remember seeing one of his wife’s slippers in the corner of the room while he was slurping out my little gash. What a lucky woman she was, I thought to myself.

We were tender and gentle for an hour, but then he suddenly threw me out. I cried all the way home. What had I done wrong? I sobbed quietly in the shower; I didn’t want my parents to hear me. How would I explain myself? But what I didn’t realize was that Danny woke up in the middle of the night and snuck out of his bedroom window to see me. I had just showered and picked up my Reader’s Digest when I heard him outside. He was the only person I wanted to see! I let him in through the front door and that’s when he kissed me. I took him upstairs and we held each other in bed. He kissed me some more, and that’s when we went all the way. It was so innocent. It was wonderful. I wouldn’t have had it any other way. It really was perfect.

The next weekend, I totally let his dad fuck me doggystyle in the garage. Hey, what was I supposed to do? That man was huge!

Mary Louise was born Thomas Arthur Cunningham on July 10, 1961. Tom was sick of life as a man, and so he ordered doctors to cut his dick off, all the while popping hormone pills to kill what masculinity Tom had in him. Changing genders is expensive these days, and Tom had to hold up a couple liquor stores to help pony up the cash for it all.

The one thing that Tom’s pills couldn’t kill was her love for football. And when that boy from Peoria, Illinois legally became Mary Louise McGillicutty, she went out for the Chicago Bears cheerleadin’ squad. The team only took 22 girls that year, and when the tryouts were over, Mary Louise finished 23rd. She was devistated.

But there was no way that Mary Louise was going to let any other girl steal her sunshine. Why, that just wasn’t way Ol’ Tom had raised his boy. So she set out in the dead of night, armed with nothing but one of them fancy handbags and a piano wire. They say it takes the desperation of a kook, or a crazy person to take a life, but not Mary Louise. She knew just what she was doing, and all the while, she had her eyes on the prize.

So next mornin’ come and Mary Louise gets a phone call that she made the team after all, and she was elated. The girl had finally realized his dreams of being an honest-to-God cheerleader. But it wasn’t long before the other girls started diggin’ into the past of ol’ Mary Louise, and the night before the first game of the year, those other ladies met in their little dance studio and pushed Ol’ Tom’s boy in a corner.

Well, she didn’t take too kindly to that.

In fact, Mary Louise had a suspicion that the girls might be onto her. That’s why she chained up all the exits in that little studio before climbing out a little hole in the rooftop. And as 21 of the prettiest angry women you ever saw tried to follow her up, Mary Louise poured down a li’l bucket of somethin’ for them to drink.

Gasoline.

Now, you know s’well as I do that it don’t make no sense to set fire to a buildin’ you happen to be standin’ on top of, but ol’ Mary Louise didn’t pay it no mind. She pulled out an old Zippo her daddy had given to him when she was just a boy. She flicked her open and that sucker lit on the first try.

And down the hole it went.

I figure that girl gave her knee a good sprainin’ as she jumped down onto the roof of her El Camino, but that didn’t slow Ol’ Tom’s boy down one bit. She jumped into that car and drove off into the night, never to be heard from again.

And that’s why the Bears don’t have cheerleaders no more.

After deciding to go to Florida State, Angela pledged at Pi Phi and spent too much time at the Sigma Chi house , where over the course of her freshman year she hooked up with four members of the fraternity, two pledges (on a dare), and a prospective student in his senior year of high school.

During her junior year, she fell in love with a TKE named Hunter who starred on the club soccer team. As a test of their love, she proposed that they have a threesome with her friend Ashley. Hunter responded by saying, “No, I only want YOU.”

This was the correct answer, which displeased Angela. So she pressed him further and convinced him that she really wanted to do it. Hunter, not wanting to turn down the opportunity to sleep with two blonde coeds, bought three bottles of Asti Spumante, headed over to the Pi Phi house, and spent what otherwise would have been an unremarkable Wednesday night engaged in the kind of drunken exploration of human sexuality you can only get while enrolled at a state-funded college. It was the best sexual experience any of them ever had.

And Angela never forgave him for it. They fought for another four months before he dumped that crazy broad.

This is Casie. Casie was your girlfriend for 18 months. Despite her flawlessly toned body and affinity for making love on top of dryers, Casie put you through absolute Hell on earth. Seriously, dude. She was certifiably insane. She told you she went to Dartmouth, when in fact she attended New England College. And when you checked the Dartmouth directory and couldn’t find her name, she got mad at you for “spying on her”. Then she kicked you in the chest.

She claimed to have been best friends with Nicole Eggert, but you couldn’t verify it. She told you she worked at Christie’s Auction House, but building security had no record of her ever being an employee. One time, you stepped on her foot by accident in the middle of a crosswalk, causing her to argue with you for ten minutes WITHOUT FINISHING CROSSING THE STREET. She had an invisible cat named “Ollie”. Sometimes she talked in a little kiddie voice. You had no clue why.

She called you fat. She broke down in tears once because you got a haircut she didn’t care for. She was also an anti-Semite. One time she met one of your buddies, then after he left the room, she asked in exasperation, “God, are ALL your friends Jewish?” She loved talking about how much richer her ex-boyfriend was compared to you. She demanded you get a job in finance. She booked restaurant reservations at four-star restaurants you couldn’t possibly afford, then made you take her anyway.

One night, she woke you up at 3AM to tell you how much she hated your family. That was the last straw. You got out of bed, put on your clothes, and started to leave the apartment. She grabbed your arm and tried to restrain you from leaving. You shook her off, running down the stairs to catch a cab. And on that cab ride home, you exhaled. You were free. You knew this was it. No amount of make-up sex would draw you back this time. You knew you would never see her again, and you didn’t. It was the best you felt in ages.

Somewhere, deep in the back of your mind, you wonder if she was ever named Casie to begin with.