My high school best friend That Idiot Shawn was a young man who had, among other stunning deeds of ineptitude, managed to explode a can of beans and smoke a squirrel. So I should have known better than to get involved with him, and hang out with him in my first (disasterous) year of college.
Shawn and I were in a sort of fuckbuddy relationship, where he had all the advantages, and I had all the disadvantages. He had recently met a girl, a friend of mine (soon to be former friend), and was hitting on her. She had a dreadful little apartment off-campus, and one night Shawn decided to drag me over there. It was maybe thirty below outside that night.
We were hanging out, she put on some Tori Amos videos, and they started to get naked. This was not a good thing, in my headspace. The apartment was tiny -- bed, dorm room fridge, TV, computer desk, closet, assorted junk, and about three square feet of floor space. It was late, and I was tired, and I was sort of trying to sleep on the bed that they were getting busy on. I rolled up my coat and stuffed it under my head and sulked as the guy I fully intended to marry sexed up my friend.
I got little to no sleep, and discovered the next morning that I'd left a chocolate-covered cherry, one of those foil-wrapped ones that you can get at convenience stores, in the pocket of my coat, and I'd squished it, spreading goo and chocolate all over the inside of the pocket of my winter coat.
I'm hearing "Cornflake Girl" in my head as I write this.