I remember the moment it hit me, like a punch in the gut.
The dreaded walk of shame. This person has just snuck out of someone’s home, at 6 am, riddled with self doubt, confusion; possibly a snippet of self loathing. They have a chronic hangover and have little recollection of the previous night. All they know is, when they awoke, they felt a sickening shock at realising they weren’t alone. Who the hell is that? Where did they meet? OMG, what’s their name?
Their only tangible thought is to get the hell out of wherever they are right that second. They would make a dash for the door if they weren’t completely naked. There’s a high possibility they’re about to take an underwear-free walk. What they really need is their phone. Like many humans, life without their phone is an existence just not worth considering.
There’s no way they want to interact with this nameless stranger. Maybe if they leave quick enough, the stranger won’t even recall they were there. Yes, sounds like a plan. They begin creeping around the house, trying to be as quite as taking a poop in a public toilet; but, of course, the quieter they try to be, the louder they are and cringe each time they make a sound.
Heading back to the bedroom, they discover both of their phones sticking out from under the stranger’s pillow. WTF? Oh, no. Is there a recording of this experience? Instantaneously, a whole new level of shame is realised. Contemplating how to retain their dignity, they stand over the stranger and gently attempt to pry the phones from under the pillow. Bit by bit, they get closer to their claim and, after a good five minutes, they finally have both. Phew!
Walking into another room, attempting the password on the stranger’s phone, they think to themselves ‘this could take forever’. Should they steal the stranger’s phone, just in case? Maybe they could take it, have it wiped it clean and mail it back. Oh decisions, decisions!
Determined to sustain at least some level of their previous self respect, they decide to leave the phone and make the getaway. Hopefully, there’s another reason why the phones were under the pillow.
Semi-dressed, they make their way to the door. As anticipated, it will be an underwear-free walk. Opening the door as quietly as possible, they step out and just as they begin to close it gently behind them, a gust of wind comes past and slams it shut, like a nail being belted into a coffin. BANG! Run is their first instinctive thought.
So, rapidly, the underwear-free walk of shame becomes a sprint, which carries on for a block. By then they are totally spent because of all the alcohol they consumed the night before. Additionally, they receive a text. It’s 6 am, who’s texting at this time of the morning? This can’t be good.
Looking down at the name of the sender, they think for themselves ‘I don’t know anyone named…’ Oh, yes, they do. Yep, just as they suspected, it’s not good. That’s why the phones were under the pillow. They’d swapped numbers. The now-named stranger sent a text: “You left your keys”.
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