Ah, the walk of shame. You know, that walk you take in the morning after a rambunctious night with someone you barely know… and now you’ve gotta leave his place without seeming like an ingrate or becoming that morning stalker girl with the “So, are we having breakfast together?” comment.
My favorite walks of shame was when I was about 20 and lived in Africa. The dorms were divided by gender so whole buildings of men and whole buildings of women were separated by huge expanses of grass and were… um, on the opposite sides of the campus. So when I awoke in my boyfriend’s (yeah, this one turned into a long-term boyfriend, go fig) arms that morning, I would endure the whoots and hollers of ‘Congratulations!’ sent up to his room for all 35 minutes of my crawl back to the women’s side.
I took a walk of shame this week. It was foggy that morning, San Francisco was covered in dew. I think walks of shame changed as I got older. The walks of shame when I was younger were almost blatant “Ha ha world! I got laid! What did you do last night?!” fingers to the mainstream public. Sometimes, they were proud parades in the early morning air. Then, I started working and the walks of shame started to really take on that essence of shame when I would show up to work… in yesterday’s clothing. But now in my 30′s, the walk of shame’s shame is all self-induced. Yeah, do I feel good that I can garner attention still in a big bar? Yeah, I can still throw a couple of witty sexual comments in the mix and see the guy readjust himself physically. It still can be done as easily as it was done in our twenties. But…
… now it’s harder to find single girl friends to go hang out late nights since all my high school friends are married with kids. Now the guys in the bar are younger than me by a decade sometimes. Now that guy whom I am waking up next to is 26 and far too young to be a serious dating choice. Or he’s 38 and divorced and really ‘too selfish to be in a relationship’. Or worse, he’s married and wants to keep everything on the down-low. And at a certain point, I realized that I am the only one of all my friends still taking these walks of shame. On a regular basis. What had started off with a bang and a finger “Haha world! I just got laid!” turns out to be just another roll in the hay to remind me how lonely in this city I truly am.
That’s why you ladies should only do walks of shames on Sundays — at least you can pretend that you’re going to church in that dress.
What’s worse is the male walk of shame when you’re still living with your parents. When the girl walks out of the house and your mother immediately exclaims, “I DO NOT APPROVE!”
@Mak–
LOL….
Tip: if you have a car, keep an extra set of clothes in it. Good for emergencies (like earthquakes, or food-spills), or unscheduled overnight encounters. ;->
YMMV.
Good Luck!! 8-D
Million dollar idea, eatable or throwaway panties, bras, jackets, jeans, neckties, clothing. After you soil them, either eat them for nutrition or compost them. Lift your heads with pride and go shuck some oysters lads, and ladies go plug some gushing geysers!
When was the last time anyone found the one after meeting for a night and hooking up? At the same time, would you really want to bring that guy home to meet the parents . . . Oh how did you meet? awk . . . we met at a bar and your daughter picked me up.
Or maybe it is just the guys you meet. I mean most/every guy would go home with a girl given the opportunity . . . maybe its not the guys you meet.
I guess the real question is . . . what do you want out of a guy (realistically of course)? I mean sometimes the tall dark/handsome/race specific bit isn’t everything. Lots of people are alone and still trying to figure it out. Plus, we can’t keep doing things we did in our twenties, it just becomes sad and you need to move on.
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