We recently had a “College” themed party where we asked everyone to show up looking as they would have looked freshman year of college. The whole party was full of nostalgia and got me thinking a lot about who I was freshman year of college and how different I am now. For one, at the party, I had a red keg cup labeled “Straight Kim” and half way through the night, it changed to “Bi Kim” and then finally “Gay Kim.” But that’s not all that changed…

I showed up to Whitman College wide-eyed, innocent, and with a full closet of Pacific Sunwear clothing. I’d never had a sip of alcohol, I had landed a big room in the all-girls dorm and I was taking Physics and Calc 2 in my first semester. I was set to soberly conquer the world. I very quickly realized I hated the all-girls dorm, as the girls were anti-social and generally zero fun. So, I grabbed my best friend (and my wife according to Facebook) and we ventured across the courtyard to the co-ed dorms. It was there that I had my first taste of alcohol – a couple of shots of Monarch vodka out of the closet of some boy we had just met. We then ventured off to a Frat “foam party” where I took my new liquid courage for a test drive and made out with a random guy.

Later on, after I joined a sorority, I went to another frat party with a group of the older girls. This time, some random guy found me and we danced and then started making out. A couple of girls in my pledge class, who are now some of my best friends, were concerned that I was drunk and about to get taken advantage of. Therefore, they followed us through the basement as he tried to slowly lead me upstairs to his room. Little did he know, I was a total tease and there was no way I was going anywhere with him. The logic was a bit flawed because drunk freshman me didn’t realize how gross and tacky it is to make out in the middle of a party. But, my soon-to-be best-friends stood by and I eventually pulled away and us girls left the party together.

That’s actually how the rest of my first semester of freshman year progressed. As I learned to drink, I would venture out, find a random guy and make out with him. I ended up making out with 16 random guys in that first semester. To sum it up, last summer, when giving advice to a friend’s sister who was headed to college the first time, I said, “Don’t make out with 16 guys your first semester.”

She turned back to me and said, “Don’t worry, I won’t be trying to prove that I’m not gay.”

After first semester, when I returned home to Bothell, I drank with some of my high school friends, as we never had together before. I kept the excess booze in my closet because my parents aren’t the type to snoop. My grandma, however, was trying to be nice and do my laundry and found the bottles. My dad took me out to dinner to ask me about it and he was really concerned. I just retorted back, “Dad, I got a 3.6 at Whitman last semester, don’t worry about it.”

“Well, I didn’t know how much of a boozer you were then,” he responded.

I didn’t tell him that I was a boozer but a responsible one with good grades. I kind of just let the conversation drop. I had, however, enough time to reflect on my actions and when I returned second semester, I was determined for things to be different. My Facebook-wife and I moved into the co-ed dorm and I did my best to not be a make out slut. I was making a name for myself and definitely wanted to change that. And I did. I mean, it was at least a lot less than 16 in one semester after that…

I eventually came out my junior year of college and I graduated Cum Laude. Not bad for the make out slut boozer I started out as…