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This took place two years ago at Foxfield, a UVA tradition wherein about 5,000 20somethings go stand in a field wearing sundresses and seersucker, drink, and nominally watch shitty horse races. Even though I went to UVA I've only been twice, and the blowee in question was a Georgetown grad I didn't know until I started this job a year ago. He was drunk, she was drunker, and she mouthified his wang quite emphatically in one of many adjacent port-o-johns, apparently separated only by the thin plastic door from a line about 15 people deep, all waiting for their own chance to excrete from one or more orifices. There love was brief, and he never saw her again. This encounter was blumpkin-free, but the toilet itself had quite a build-up already waiting there to set the scene. I like to think that she'll remember this someday, as she's giving birth to her first child.

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