With the holidays upon us, and exams finally over, most of us are packin’ our bags and getting ready to head home for a couple weeks of home cooked meals and our childhood beds. But there’s another important thing that we have to look forward to when it comes to headin’ back to the hometown: seeing our high school friends — friends that may or may not include that missed opportunity.

So what are the rules when it comes to hookin’ up with high school friends? Like most things sexual, there aren’t very many. But take it from a girl who’s heard one too many stories that involve drunken nights back home, there are a few things one should keep in mind when thinking of getting down in their hometown.

Word travels fast. Oh, yes. Even though we pride ourselves on being adults, unlike being away at school, doin’ it with the guy (or girl) who was your tenth grade lab partner is probably going to be a topic of interest among your other high school friends. And their friends. And those kids who went to the other high school up the street. If your hometown is as small as mine, don’t expect much privacy. But hey, if you’re going to be the center of gossip for any reason, might as well be for getting your freak on.

Expectations. That missed opportunity from high school has probably been built up in your head over the years, and chances are, the actual experience is going to be nowhere near your expectations. It’s good to cross some things (er, people) off your to-do list, but some things (like the boy who totally peaked in high school) are also better left to fantasy.

My place or yours? Being back in town probably means staying with parents, and there’s nothing more awkward than your partner’s parents witnessing your morning-after stride-of-pride. So unless you want to get busy in the back of a car (hey, it’d be like a giant high school flashback), you might want to re-think doin’ a high school friend.

So tell me CC readers, is it worth it? Have you ever gotten the chance to make out with your “missed opportunity”? Tell us about it!

Everyone’s got a morning after story and we wanna hear yours! Send it over to us and we’ll post it – anonymously, of course – right here!]

It was time for my sorority’s annual “Crush Party,” where each sister invites as many guys as she wants and we all take a bus trip to a banquet hall. It’s also known as pretty much the biggest drinking event of the semester. Needless to say, my memory became hazy about halfway through the night. Pretty soon I had lost my drinks and my dates (one of whom had found a private closet to get busy in, the other who was grinding with my big sister), and found myself in the arms of a new boy I’d never seen before.

After last call (where the bartender had to tear my vodka soda out of my hands), we got on the bus, made out the whole way home to pass the time, and then returned to his apartment (but not before I made him stop to split a pizza on the way). I kept telling my new friend that I couldn’t sleep over because “I had class the next morning” (this was on a Friday night, mind you), but then decided I’d better stay instead of walking home by myself. After making out on his kitchen counter for a little while, we got into his bed and passed out.

The next morning, I woke up and really, REALLY had to pee. I snuck out of bed to use the bathroom, grabbing my cell phone on the way to check the time. It was 8:30. Despite the fact that I had 400 Chuy Bravos in my head banging some drums and the boy happened to be a great snuggler, I decided I should get out of there while it was still early enough to sneak home without the entire campus seeing me. I grabbed a hoodie, looked for some papers on the boy’s desk to figure out his name so I could return it sometime, and tip-toed outta there.

I made it about halfway home in stilettos, a teeny-tiny dress and an oversized hoodie before I saw some people in the distance. I got a little closer and realized it was just a few blue Polo-shirted tour guides followed by a bunch of moms, dads, and high-schoolers. “No big deal,” I thought. “I’ll just cut across the green.”

In the words of everyone’s favorite prostitute:
Big mistake.
Huge.

I had barely kicked off my heels (I didn’t want them digging into the grass) when I saw them. EVERYWHERE. In my hungover state I neglected to realize the date. It wasn’t just a normal Saturday; it was Decision Day, when all the accepted high-school seniors and their families come to campus to celebrate. Horns were honking, people were cheering, there were police officers and crossing guards at every turn, and worst of all, there were hundreds upon hundreds of parents and high schoolers surrounding me. And they were staring.

I didn’t know what to do. Do I bend over and put my shoes on? In a thong? Do I run? Do I wave?

So I did what any college girl would do: I tossed my hair over my shoulder and I did the Stride of Pride right past everyone. Barefoot. In a mini-dress. I’m sure some parents were disturbed, but I like to think that maybe, just maybe, those high schoolers appreciated that little glimpse of college life that they’d never get from brochures or those obnoxiously chipper tour guides.

So, let’s bring it all out in the open. Right here. Because you are not alone - we’ve all been there before.]

You wake up with what feels like a baseball-sized cotton ball in your mouth. Your head is pounding, your ears are ringing and you feel sweaty. You lift the blanket to get some air and – yup! –you’re naked.

You roll over and find a boy sleeping soundly next to you. And that is when you realize you are not at home.

You cover yourself up again and lay there willing the headache to stop. You spot a bottle of water on the bedside table and consider drinking it, then question how long a college boy has probably had a bottle of water on his nightstand. You think hard and finally remember him grabbing it for you the night before. You chug it down.

The boy begins to stir. You sit back in silence. Part of you wants him to offer you a ride home, but the other part (the one with an urge to vomit and mascara wiped across your cheek) just wants to make a quick escape.

As the snores begin again, you slowly get up and begin looking for your things. Your jeans are next to the bed, your underwear is on the computer chair and your right shoe is…..is….God Damn, where the hell did that shoe go?! “Can I leave it?” You think to yourself. “No, of course I can’t. Those are my favorite pair, not to mention the fact that I can’t walk home in one freaking shoe.”

You rifle through his clothes on the floor, under the bed (where you find a used condom and hope and pray it was yours), and finally find your pump…in the bed. You throw on your clothes, toss that bra in your purse, gather the rest of your things, jot down a quick note on the back of a receipt and make a run for it. Freedom!

Only the hard part has only just begun. Lucky for you it is somewhat early and his roommates are still asleep – you tiptoe out the front door without being spotted. Unfortunately for you, the same can’t be said for the rest of campus. As you exit his house you realize, 1) You are really far from your place, 2) A lot of people get up early on weekends!, and 3) You should have worn less obvious footwear last night for this walk home.

You know that people do the Walk of Shame all the time, so who cares? Just do it and get it over with.

Maybe no one will notice. But everyone notices – of course they do. People stare. People giggle. After all, as if the black pants and heels at 8am on a Saturday morning weren’t big enough giveaways, you happen to catch a reflection of yourself in the Starbucks window and your hair, makeup, and OhMyGodIsThatAHickey!? WHO GIVES A HICKEY?!, are pretty glaring indicators.

You grab your neck and pick up some speed. Eventually, you make it home where you immediately rip off all of your clothes and jump into bed. You can’t wait to tell your roommates all about your night, but first you must sleep. Besides, they’ve all been there before.

In fact, they made me sort of angry.

The writer’s tips can be summed up simply as, “Get up, get out, and make sure you look pretty when ya do it.” What? Is it 1950? Is there a reason the woman should have to tip toe (literally) around the sleeping prince? Should she have to exit quietly so as not to disturb his life?

You spent the night with a guy – which is your right – so why should you feel like a trampy nobody in the morning? Own it. Be there. Enjoy it.

In response to their post, we are going to give you our tips. And not make you feel bad for gettin’ frisky with a strapping young lad:

They Said: Get up and get out.

We Say: Unless you don’t like the idea of morning sex, we recommend sticking around for a bit. You are already there, why not enjoy a morning activity that both of you are clearly going to want? And if morning sex isn’t your thing, don’t sneak out. That just looks shady. Wake the boy up, tell him you had a great time but have to get back home, and kiss him goodbye.

They Said: Kiss Him Goodbye

We Say: We do agree with this one; no matter how bad the hookup (and you know some of those college boys have no clue what they are doing) give him a kiss goodbye. If you liked it, leave your number. It is a tad strange to spend an entire evening naked with someone and doing many a-naughty thing only to get all shy and run out in the morning. Plus, why should you run? You didn’t force this guy to take you home – he invited you. Don’t feel weird about it in the morning.

They Said: Keep things quiet

We Say: Sneaking out of some guy’s house in the early morning is going to make you feel cheap and whorish. And, despite what many people think, spending the night with a man is neither of those things. Why should you have to tip toe out of his house? He knows you are there. He doesn’t have to get up and walk you out, but he should acknowledge that you are leaving and make an effort to say goodbye. Yes, it is a bad idea to run through his house, cook some breakfast and watch TV with the roommates, but there is no reason for you to have to take off your shoes and tip toe out the front door.

They Said: Pick up your trash

We Say: Let that guy clean up his own place! You weren’t the only one using that water bottle and you sure as hell weren’t alone in the use of the condom. Cleaning up after yourself makes it seem like you did something wrong and that you are trying to hide it. Why should you have to clean up after some man? This is his apartment/dorm room – he can clean it up when he finally rolls out of bed.

They Said: Don’t Make Apologies

We Say: Amen, sisters. If you went home with someone and didn’t want to have sex, that is your prerogative. No matter what he says, “But it feels so good,” “You won’t regret it,” “Just for a second?” you do NOT have to give in.

They Said: Make sure you don’t look like a busted up ho when you leave.

We Say: Sure, straightening out the hair and splashing a little water on your face is a good idea, but no matter how much lip gloss you reapply, sporting a backless shirt and a pair of stilettos at 10AM on a Saturday is going to tip everyone off.

[Image courtesy of timgrey on Flickr.]