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Jeremy, or Stallion?

Janet Kuypers, 05/08/09

I was in college, reading the Daily Illini newspaper one February morning, which was reporting that fraternity boys, an average, drank 30 beers every month. Now, I knew they have keggers at their houses on weekends, but when I read that, I thought, wait, I go to their parties, I probably drink that many beers, so I decided to actually keep a calendar for the next month of how much I drank. So throughout March I marked numbers on days of the month, I spent half of my Spring Break with my parents (so I didn’t drink), but I spent the other half with my ex-gang member friend from Canada (which drinking-wise probably made up for spending time with my parents).
But on this year, March 31st was a Saturday, so me and my neighbor Tara were going to go out for the evening. I checked my tally on my calendar and saw I had only 6 drinks to go to match up with the boys, so I checked my wallet... And saw that I had no cash. I know the buses were free on campus, so I hoped I could ask friends for free beers for the night.
When Tara and I stepped off the bus and entered Cochrane’s on Wright Street, she introduced me to one of her mild-mannered male friends. “Janet, this is Stallion.”
So I asked him, “what’s your real name?”
He said his name was Jeremy, so I asked him, “which would you rather be called?”
He said he really didn’t care.
Well, the world knew I wasn’t going home with this guy, and I needed some free drinks, so I asked, “Okay, in the heights of sexual esctacy, which would you rather hear called out, ‘Stallion’ or ‘Jeremy’?”
He had a stunned look on his face for about three seconds, until he finally said, “I’ll be right back,” and walked away.
I wondered if I pushed my luck too far until he came back five minutes later, introducing himself again, “Hi, my name is Jeremy.”
That was a great way to start off that night, and everyone knew I was on a drinking mission then, and people bought me drinks until I surpassed the “frat boy” level (lucky me), until they poured me into another bus so I could get home.




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Chicago poet Janet Kuypers
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