Why Me?

Everyone in this story is 18 years of age or older.

Why me? This is a question I ask myself quite often. Why do I seem to find myself in embarrassing situations more often than most people?

Do I ask for it? Do I give off a vibe?

Do I associate my own humiliation with other people’s happiness?

The worst thing about what just happened, easily my most humiliating experience to date, is that I am the one who set it all in motion. No one to blame but myself. Well actually, there are lots of people to blame, but they couldn’t have done it without me.

So here I am, early days of College, naked on a fire escape outside an on going class.

But let’s back up. To explain today’s humiliation, we have to go back to last spring, late High School and my most humiliating event ever, before today.

It was one of those late in the year competitions where a bunch of schools sent their teams to the big city to compete in Mock Trial. Each school sent four teams of five with alternates, so about 25 kids in all. We stayed at a big convention hotel, four to a room, to cut down on costs.

I was the odd man out in my room as the other three guys were old friends. One of them had smuggled in some Vodka and they were proceeding to get a little drunk. I wasn’t a drinker, which did not endear me to them.

At some point, the conversation turned to stories of hotel experiences we had all had in the past. I shared a story of seeing Cher at a hotel once, another guy talked about the cops arresting a man in a room on his floor and one laughed through a story of some loser having to go down to the front desk in just a towel after he had locked himself out of his room.

The drunker they got, the more bored I got so I extricated myself from the conversation and laid down on the bed to read a book I had brought.

Had my book not been so engrossing, I might have noticed that the boisterous conversation had mutated into intense whispering with a lot of side glances in my direction.

At one point, one of the guys suggested we start getting ready for bed, which was odd because it was only around 9:30.

Since there were four of us, it was proposed that two of us should shower that evening so we wouldn’t all have to line up in the morning.

Made sense to me, and I thought nothing of it when it was suggested that I go first since I wasn’t drinking.

So I did. Once out of the shower I was surprised that the gym shorts and tee shirt I had laid out were no longer there. So I wrapped myself in my towel and stepped out of the bathroom into the waiting arms of my three roommates who manhandled me right out of our room into the hallway.

Closing the door behind behind us, they ran towards the elevator and pressed the down button.

“You might want to take the stairs one of them called out, we’ll see you down there.”

And with that, the elevator arrived, the doors opened, they hopped on, the doors closed and they were gone.

I tried the door again, cause you know, maybe the joke was that the door was open all along.

No such luck. I paced for a minute, refusing to accept my situation.

Just then, the other elevator pinged which jarred me out of my indecisiveness. I held fast to my towel and sprinted towards the exit at the end of the hall. Too late. Three classmates, all girls, saw me just as I made it to the door.

I bolted through and stood there on the landing, panting and grateful that I had dodged a bullet.

To this day I can’t fathom why I thought just being on the other side of the door gave me some kind of immunity. Seconds later, of course, the door opened and the three girls all laughing were surprised to see me there, assuming that they would be giving chase as I sprinted down the stairs.

I told them what happened and asked if they would let me stay in their room while one of them went down and got me my key.

They would not, but they were happy to accompany me to the lobby.

They had been outside smoking dope with some other girls and were so thrilled that they were now part of this event. When we got to the lobby door, I was too scared to open it. I begged them again to go and get the key for me. Again they refused, explaining that they wouldn’t give just anyone a random key. I was trying to come up with another solution when one of the girls just pushed open the door and the other two forced me through it.

And so there I was standing in the lobby of a big hotel with just a towel around me, three giggling girls behind me, and in front of me, three guys yelling “hell yeah” and giving each other high 5’s. My roommates ladies and gentlemen. There were a few other random folks including, I assumed (correctly), the other two dope smoking girls whom my roomies had convinced not to go to their rooms quite yet.

And then wouldn’t you know it, as I made my way to the front desk, the all girls Catholic High School from our town, whose bus had just pulled in, unloaded 25 or so more girls to witness my humiliation.

So all at once, I’m at the front desk asking the woman behind the counter for a key, while the dope smoking girls and vodka drinking boys have morphed into one hooting and cat calling group as the Catholic girls who at first looked on in stunned silence, began their own brand of wolf whistles and “take it off baby!,” cheers. Their chaperones, two women who honestly didn’t look much older than their charges, didn’t seem to have any inclination to come to my aid.

If the woman behind the desk had been efficient, that might have been the worst of it, but she needed to know exactly how I had come to be standing in front of her with just a towel on. While I explained what happened, much to her amusement, and while I waited for what seemed like forever for her to make me a new key, I failed to notice that the pot heads and my roommates were deep in conversation.

The girls had decided that it would be so much cooler if I was naked and were working on my roommates. No one, it appeared, had the guts to take this to the next level. Still, the girls continued to cajole, whining that a real man would grab my towel.

And finally, one of them did. Just as my key was being handed to me, one of the guys grabbed my towel raised it over his head and spun it as he yelled “Fuck Yeah” and took off down the hall.

Pandemonium.

Everyone is laughing and cheering as I do my best to cover myself with my hands while still holding on to my new room key for dear life.

Once again, my mind is having trouble taking all of this in, although with thirty or forty people laughing and pointing, it shouldn’t be that hard to accept.

But I’m stubborn. I look to the woman who just handed me my key thinking she must have the authority to make this stop, but she has her hand over her mouth hiding an obvious smile as she eyes me from head to toe.

Next I look for the chaperones from the Catholic School, but their only concession to my predicament is to laugh but not point or call out.

Not knowing what else to do, I break for the stairs, mooning the crowd as I go, the echos of their laughter trailing me as I climb farther and farther up the stairs.

That was the worst of it, but it wasn’t quite over. My roomies of course invite the five girls back to our room and I had to endure another hour of all of them reliving my humiliation from their vantage points. “Best night of my life!,” was a common refrain. Just not from me.

And all throughout the tournament, every time I heard laughter or imagined that someone was looking at me funny, I assumed they had either seen me that night or heard about it. Pretty sure I was right every time.

So yeah, all of this had me on edge about going off to college, where things like this seemed even more commonplace.

My mother, who had heard about the last incident at the hotel and was aware of some of my earlier mishaps decided I needed to “see someone.” Did she think I somehow perpetuated or encouraged these humiliations?

So I agreed to go and “see someone.” My shrink was a very nice woman, who did a pretty good job of keeping a straight face as I related all my tales of woe, insisting that I did not in anyway ask for this.

As the date of my departure for college grew closer, she hit on what she thought was a great idea! “You should volunteer to be a model for the Art department, a nude model.”

“Yeah right,” I chuckled.

But she insisted that she was serious. She explained that it would be a controlled environment. I would be naked because I was supposed to be naked. After awhile I would be empowered and that power would free me of whatever vibe I was giving off that said, “strip me, humiliate me!”

I still wasn’t convinced. I just felt like with my track record, volunteering to be naked was a plan that could not end well.

She got me to give her permission to call the head of the Art department and without giving my name, see if he or she thought this was a good idea.

The following week she told me that she had spoken to the professor and he green lighted the idea. He told my shrink a lot of would be actors did this to overcome stage fright.

He told her I should stop by the Art department when I arrived at school and introduce myself, reminding him why I was there, and he’d take care of me.

We went back and forth with this and I left for college telling my shrink I’d think about it, but I’d already decided NO WAY!

And I felt good about my decision. I was in a new town. Nobody from my high school went to this college, so why ask for trouble.

So I get to college and things are great through week one. And then it happened.

I’m in a co-ed dorm because, c’mon. I try to time my showers at off times, because of my history, and this is working out okay.

On this particular day, I am in the shower alone, as usual, when the water suddenly goes very very cold. I hear some yelps from the girls shower on the other side of the wall, but don’t think much of it.

Unfortunately, I had just lathered up my hair, so I have to brave the ice cold water a little longer to rinse out the shampoo. As I turn off the water and start to walk towards my towel on the far wall by the door, it suddenly slams open and in walk two girls wrapped in large towels with sopping wet hair.

“Oh sorry,” one of them says, we didn’t think anyone would be in here. We lost hot water and were hoping…” and then her voice fades off as she realizes that I am naked and shrinkage is not doing me any favors.

Both girls snort out a laugh and back out of the door.

Suddenly, the door opens again and an arm reaches out, grabs my towel and disappears again.

I can hear both girls laughing as they run back to their room.

I peak out the door, don’t see anyone and sprint towards my room, scooping up my towel which had been tossed on the floor about 15 yards from the shower.

No big deal, right? It could have happened to anyone.

But then the doubt crept in. Why me, why my dorm, why not somebody else? At that moment I decided I would see the Art professor tomorrow and put an end to my humiliations once and for all.

The next day as I walked towards the Art department, I started to feel a little weak in the knees. I had to remind myself that this was a good thing and I could always back out. The art building was great. Not surprisingly, there was art everywhere. I swallowed hard as I looked at a life size nude drawing of a man hanging on one wall.

The professor, Professor Morton, was a very kind older man. His office was attached to a classroom, very obviously an art classroom. There were in fact a few students in there working on projects when I entered. Professor Morton greeted me warmly and asked how he could help me. This threw me a little, as I did not want to have this conversation in public. I said that I was there about a job. “A modeling job,” he asked. I looked around hoping no one noticed, but all three students started to smile a little bit. I was in a panic at this point and threw out the name of my shrink. “Dr. Foster told me to come see you,” I prompted. He just looked at me for a second or two and then said, “Oh right, the shy boy!”

This elicited an outright snicker from one of the students, but Professor Morton was oblivious. He ushered me into his office and had me sit in a chair facing his desk so that my back was to the classroom. We talked for a bit and he really put me at ease. He suggested that we start the following Thursday at 2:30 in room 217. He said it was a small classroom where the lights could be dimmed so that when I looked out, I wouldn’t see people so much, just the lights that clipped to their easels. I walked out of his office feeling confident that I had made the right decision.

Laura, Susan and Bill were just starting their Senior year. They were all assisting Dr. Morton, which meant they would have the run of the department.

They had been friends since their freshmen year, creating a very exclusive clique. They had other friends, but when the three of them ganged up on you, they were merciless.

One night during their sophomore year, while working late in the studio they all started to complain how much they hated one of the female models. They amused each other with ideas of how they could humiliate her. Steal her clothes, put itching powder on her stool, somehow get her to go to a math or English class…in the nude. Their talk emboldened them, and once they actually smeared epoxy on her stool. The look on her face when she sat down was a real treat. The one guy hugging her bare chest while the professor struggled to pry the stool off of her butt was all gravy!

After that, their plans got bolder and bolder, No one who knew them trusted them, and their reputation was such that it didn’t take long to know of them. It was getting harder and harder to find new victims. Last year, one spring day, when Professor Morton was out sick, they had convinced an older man who was modeling, that the school was okay with nude modeling outside. They were quite pleased with themselves for getting this man to pose nude in front of the student commons for about twenty minutes, until security broke it up. That’s when they decided to make friends with security. No doubt their antics would have gotten anyone else expelled, but they were each great artists and the school couldn’t stand the idea of severing ties with artists that they knew would ultimately enhance the schools reputation.

Now it was their year. Professor Morton had called them in for a meeting that first day to go over their responsibilities. He gave them each keys to the classrooms and gave them their assignments. He would teach the smaller classes on Tuesdays & Thursdays and they would tutor on Fridays and show required films in the large auditorium on Wednesdays.

The rest of the time was theirs to spend on their senior art projects, which is exactly what they were doing that day when I walked in to talk to Professor Morton.

I didn’t really notice them, except for the smiles and that one snicker, but they sure noticed me. A freshman, fresh meat, and a SHY BOY! When I went into the professor’s office, one of them, I’m assuming Laura, positioned herself right outside the door and heard every word!

After I left the office that day, Laura turned to Susan and Bill and said “my friends, we have been handed a wonderful gift today, let’s make sure we take full advantage!” And with that she smiled at her two friends and said, “I’ll be right back.”

As I said, I had left Professor Morton’s office, feeling great. I was so deep in thought that it took me a minute to realize that the out of breath girl who had been calling out excuse me, EXCUSE ME, was in fact talking to me. “Hi,” she said, “My name is Laura, I’m so glad I caught you.” She put out her hand for me to shake. I shook her hand and wondered what this beautiful woman could possibly want with me. “I’m Professor Morton’s assistant.”

Of course she was. I’d been so nervous I hadn’t really made eye contact with anyone but the Professor. “He sent me after you. He feels so stupid. He was looking at last years schedule. He’ll actually need you next Wednesday at 3:30 if that works with your schedule?” I assured her that it did. “Oh and the classroom is different too. You’ll be in 243 instead of 217.” “Is that another small classroom?” I asked.

“Um, I think so” she said. “It’s so great that you’re doing this, I mean it’s so brave.”

I wanted to tell her that was not the case, but she was looking at me like I was a hero or something, so I assured her that it was no big deal.

“Well, I guess I’ll see you Wednesday then,” she said.

I must have looked a little startled, because she assured me that she only helped Professor Morton with set up and then she’d be gone. She smiled and gave me a shy little wave as she walked away.

I watched her walk away and thought “she’s like an angel.” I couldn’t wait to see her again.

The week flew by and then suddenly it was next Wednesday. As I walked to the Art building, I started to get very nervous, but then I reminded myself I was in good hands. Professor Morton promised to make my first time a very comfortable experience and I was going to get to see Laura again even if it was just for a few minutes.

As a matter of fact, she was the first person I saw when I walked in the building.

“There you are!” she said, “I was getting worried about you.”

“Why,” I said, after all I was 20 minutes early.

“Don’t you know you’re always supposed to be here 30 minutes before class? And with Professor Morton not coming, I really have my hands full.

“What, what do mean he’s not coming?”

“Yeah, something came up and he asked me to run the class.”

I was having trouble taking all this in. No professor, Laura was going to be there the whole time! I wanted a minute digest this, but Laura was practically dragging me up the stairs. “Oh and the changing room is locked and I don’t have the key, so you’re going to have to change in the men’s room.” I hadn’t really given any thought to where I’d change so this didn’t faze me much.

She handed me a blue Gap bag she was carrying and told me my robe was in there. I was to change into the robe and put my clothes in the bag. I went into the men’s room that was thankfully empty and proceeded to strip. I looked at my naked reflection in the mirror and wondered again what I was doing. I reached in the bag for the robe and received quite a shock. This was obviously a woman’s robe!! It was red satin with white lace and sooo small. I called out to Laura and explained the problem to her. She asked me to put it on so she could take a look.

“Oh no,” she said, “those idiots must have thought we had a female model today.” She looked like she was about to cry. “I don’t know what to do,” she said. “I can’t get into the changing room and class is going to start soon. Could you please just wear this robe for now, the classroom is just a few doors away?”

How could I say no. She looked so panicked and I was her hero.

As I walked out of the men’s room, Laura took my clothes from me and walked on ahead at a brisk pace. My heart sank as the first door I saw had a 203 over it. I looked ahead in a blur down a very long hallway. A few people in the hall turned and gave me a funny look. As we passed another door 209, four or five ladies were coming out. They stopped short when they saw me. As we passed them, one said “nice butt,” which made me self-consciously pull down on the backside of the robe. That seemed to make them all laugh.

“Almost there,” Laura said as we passed a darkened 217. But we weren’t almost there! We rounded a corner and were headed down another hallway. Now the doors had new numbers like 1A and 1E. These were obviously administrative offices. I could see people straining their necks to get a look at me, while others actually came out of there offices for a closer look. As the numbers changed again to the 230’s I saw another men’s room and made a mental note to change there when this was over. Strange that Laura hadn’t had me use that rest room.