So everyone always ask me where the name ManEater came from. And this blog series "The Mississippi Diaries" will give you insight to how the name originated from real life experiences that myself and my girlfriends went through while attending and playing collegiate sports in the SEC. One of or if not the biggest college conference in the USA. This series is supposed to make your mouth drop, make you laugh, and most importantly understand that ManEater was created by a woman for women and that we may not all experience the same situations but we have all come across a fuck boy or two or five. And while at the time these situations were gut wrenching and heartbreaking the most important thing is what you take away from them.
It was a hot summer night in Mississippi. I was walking over from my girl friends apartment building to the guy I was “talking to” at the time or you could loosely say having sex with at the time apartment building. His name was Mike and you will be hearing plenty of comical stories between him and I in this series.
So anyway, I get to his apartment and I’m really excited because he’s popping popcorn and we’re going to watch a movie and cuddle. A great night if you ask me. Except it wasn’t. I go in his bedroom to set down my over night things and he’s outside the room in the kitchen getting our snacks and talking to his roommate Milo. I start to get comfortable, taking off my shoes and arranging the pillows. I pull back the covers to lie down and bam; a pair of panties. Panties that aren’t mine. I stood there in horror for a minute, Mike was still out in the kitchen with Milo and I had a few more seconds to collect my thoughts and pick my jaw up from the floor. I was horrified. My adrenaline was pumping and I seriously sucked at confrontation at this time (Please keep in mind that at this time I’m still quite naïve and entering beginning experiences of fuckboy phases).
So Mike walks in and sees me standing there and can immediately see something is wrong with me. “What is it? What’s wrong?” He asks. I just stand there and point to the panties lying by the pulled back sheets. He looks at them for a second and then looks back to me. And then has the audacity to ask me, “What those aren’t yours?” I don’t know if I was mostly mad at his lie, or just flat out offended that he hooked up with someone with such poor taste in panties. I mean we’re in college and they looked like some flat out granny panties, or your period panties. You know the ones I’m talking about ladies. He then went on to tell me the truth. Some girl he could hardly remember. Which is probably why he forgot to check the bed for the plane jane panties. I gather up my things to go, ignoring the excuses that come out his mouth and head out the door and back to my girlfriends apartment across the street.
Stay tuned for next week. Part 2 of the Mississippi Diaries