The Morning After: Don’t Let The Door Hit You On The Way Out

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morning-after

It was one of the many nights when I should have stayed in and done homework, but decided/was forced to go out with my roommates for a night of belligerence. Standard.

I’d been seeing this guy and I was starting to get over it, but I still wanted him to go out with us anyway. I mean, I needed someone to flirt with/take home at the of the night and he was an easy kill. The night progressed as our nights out tended to: shots, pitchers, mixed drinks, and dancing…lots and lots of dancing. The kind of dancing that you’d rather do naked. And the kind of dancing that inevitably ends to doin’ it naked.

We stumbled our way home and after some drunken snacking on chips, cheddar goldfish crackers, and some random mac and cheese, lovaboy decided to start hinting that he was ready for “bed.”  Since my roommate was fast asleep (Read: completely passed out in a drunken stupor), we decided to do it in the bathroom. Yes, we were a considerate pair; we wouldn’t want her waking up and seeing some naked booty 6 feet away.

The boom boom sesh was great. I think. I mean as great as it could be for doin’ it on the counter when you keep sliding into the sink and the faucet is hitting your buttbone.  Anyway, after we re-grouped, Captain Morg was really gettin’ to me and I needed to get to sleep fast. Alone. I’m not much of a cuddler and the last thing I need is some guy spooning me when I feel like I’m spinning and gonna puke all over my room. But I knew this guy was all about curling up next to me in the fetal posish, so when he said he needed to run back to his room to grab something, I took it as, what seemed at the time, the opportunity of a lifetime.

The second he stepped out of my dorm, I closed the door behind him and locked it. I climbed in bed and passed out.

The next morning I woke up with some some hazy memories of some knocking and a few phone calls. When I checked my phone (which was somehow in the cabinet below the bathroom sink….), I found a text from the boy:

“haha ok.”

I had no idea what he was haha-ok-ing to, so I checked my outbox. Turns out it was a response to something I sent just before (putting my phone in the bathroom cabinet?) and falling fast asleep:

“Supr tred. Thnks fo taht. See u tom.”

I’m glad he took it well.

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