Walk of Shame/Fame

Part I.

She's still here. Hmm.

It's not that i wanted her to be gone per se, it's just that there would have been a lot fewer variables if she was gone.

Now I run through the range of questions.

Do I poke her with this morning wood and see what happens?

Do I offer her a ride home?

Do I take a long shower and hope that she is at least dressed and ready when I get out?

Is my roommate's car blocking me in...Oh thank God it is. I'll get her an Uber...Uberx is sufficient right?

Or maybe she's an Uber plus girl...

Or maybe I'll just take my roommate's car and maybe we can get breakfast or something.

I have a terrible poker face at 7 o'clock in the morning.

Dripping with sweat on the dance floor at midnight, I am a magician. I can convince almost anyone to come home with me. Ok that's a lie. But I will say anything that I think will help my cause. I will make a girl feel special.

At 7am when I look to my right I usually panic and think of some excuse to jettison myself from the situation. Oh fuck...I forgot about...golf! Can I run you home really quick? If you want to know where you stand with me, count the seconds it takes me to become uncomfortable in the morning, if you last more than 5 minutes, I probably do not regret the decision.

All of this said, I imagine that when a girl wakes up in a strange place, she panics. Immediate goal, GTFO and be seen by as few people as possible.

In college, the move was to text all of your friends to see who could come pick you up. It was like a mom in a minivan picking all of her kids up from soccer practice. Except it wasn't soccer practice, it was a shacker shuttle picking up all the chicks who got slammed by some over-confident frat guy. I loved coming to the door so I could see who else was in the car and make a mental note for the future of who did and did not have questionable morals.

In Chicago, this continued to a certain extent, people still live together, but fewer people had cars. It was typically ask for a ride/grab a cab...possibly even walk, the TRUE walk of shame, moving to a real city that is spread out to a certain extent lowers the probability of running into someone you know. Still walking home is less than ideal.

Now that I live in LA, the move is almost always offer a ride home. I'm 28, it's time to be a gentleman, though I often fail to even hold up the lowest quality of service in this regard. I am the worst.

HOWEVER!

I rarely bring girls to my house. It's messy, it smells sometimes. I have a female roommate and the truth is, the shacker is the one with the power. No friends I embrace the away game, and unlike many of my female counter parts, I revel in the walk of shame. I live for it.

Part II.

This bed is comfortable AF. I should get a bed like this, or maybe a nice 2000 thread count duvet.

"Holy shit, is that bacon?"

At this moment, I have two options. I can just leave, sneak out if I want. Take a leisurely stroll home, call a car if I'm too hungover. Regardless, I will smile and wave at strangers, I may whistle a song on the way home. Why? Well because I had unprotected sex with a white girl last night! That means she (probably) doesn't have stds and (definitely) is on birth control. Oh what a lovely day!

But today, I decide I want some of that bacon. I walk out of the bedroom wearing last night's jeans and an under shirt. One of her roommates is cooking breakfast.

"Hi, I'm Kat."

Kat is wearing an "All who wander are not lost" t-shirt. That's nice, that means she's still on her parents' dime and does cocaine. I bet she gives blowjobs to random dudes she meets at yacht week, and swallows. But none of that matters because this morning, Kat is cooking me breakfast. I wonder if she knows that quote is from a poem in the Lord of the Rings. I bet now, she probably saw it on some bullshit instagram motivational poster and used it as validation when she quit her job at Chase to pursue a voice-acting career. Good luck with that Kat.

Oh, what's this? Kat had a shacker too! He looks Italian, I bet this makes her feel interesting. Eduardo introduces himself and it reminds me of when I used to shack at sororities in college. All the rival frat guys shared tis common bond. They would all eat together while whoever they banged the night before was putting on make-up or whatever.

Oh Moeller, who were you with last night? No way! Fist pound.

Eduardo does not ask me who I was with last night. Being as this is a two bedroom apartment, I suppose it is quite obvious. 

I ask everyone what their plans are for the day, my girl lazily slugs out of her room, somewhat surprised that I am still there. I totally get it, I bet she was hoping that if she laid in bed long enough I would leave to avoid this awkward moment. That way Kat could be like "You slut, who was that?" But instead she finds Eduardo and I exchanging study abroad stories.

"Ya man, I got too turnt in Amsterdam and missed my flight, I sat in shame at the Brussels airport for 18 hours waiting for the next flight to Italy."

"That's total shit man, my friends left me passed out in a field in Germany, I missed the train, went back to the pub."

Strong move. High five. Eduardo and I are now besties.

I find out that Kat and Eduardo did ecstasy last night. Eduardo isn't feeling too hot but Kat is surprisingly doing great.

Eduardo rented a boat in Marina Del Rey and I receive a text informing me that my golfing foursome fell apart.

"Do you want to come?"

What? Oh on the boat? No I should head back and do some laundry and maybe go for a run.

"Come."

It's the girl I stayed over with. I now notice that she's pretty cute, and although she probably wanted me gone 20 minutes ago, she has warmed to me.

I now have two decisions, I can pull the rip cord on this morning, never call her again and go about my life.

Or I can get on the boat.

The most interesting answer I ever got to a: "So do you want a ride home..."

"or we could go back to Kirloy's"

Or we could go to Kilroy's. Of course I get on the boat.

Always get on the boat.