Ram.

A quick story. We went out for the first bar review of the semester during our first week back at school. I was, as usual, out on the dance floor making a fool of myself. I'm usually tall, and quite lanky, but I have a blast just acting a fool, with or without alcohol. I was wearing a sweater because of the cold, and I ended up ridiculously overheated with all the dancing. I asked one of my guy friends if he thought it would be weird if I took my sweater off; I was wearing a tank top underneath it. He said, "no, that's not weird, girls wear tank tops out all the time." This was sound logic to me at the time.

So off my sweater comes, and the rigor of dancing intensifies. It was an odd night in that my guy friends thought it was fun to get on either side of me, Night at the Roxbury style. So most of the evening I had a guy on either side. At one such a moment, guy A in front of me started getting a little too vigorous for my style. There's no other way to say this other than he was ramming himself into me. He realizes after a few seconds that this was not cool, but not before the damage was done.

The sheer force of him ramming into me knocked the strap of my tank top down, revealing my breast (thankfully still bra-ensconced) to the entire dance floor. There was a split second where everyone stopped. I swear the music did too - with one of those record scratches and all. Okay, maybe I just imagined that part.

And here I thought I was keeping my reputation at the law school intact. Guy A had to come along and throw a wrench in that plan...