You know that moment in college, the one where you wake up and realize the house you are in looks kinda familiar but its not yours. And then you think, "Wait, I have been here before, last weekend, except I woke up two doors down the hall." You quietly put your clothes back on and hope that you can sneak out before anyone else in the house realizes that you have worked your way through 50% of that house.... That's right, you double dipped. When you get home, you realize the thrill was exciting but you are looking forward to being 30 and no longer having these hilarious moments.
But then you turn 30. And you meet your friend Jeff's roommate, lets call him Carter, at a concert. Carter is cute but not your type, but nothing wrong with meeting him out a few times for drinks. One of the times, enough booze is consumed that he makes it home with you. At this point, the details are fuzzy but you do remember the awkwardness of both of you putting your clothes back on in the morning, and then making uncomfortable conversations as you drive him home, hoping that at least you didn't tell him what you really thought about his penis. Ugh, awkward enough that you know you will be getting 20 questions from your friend/his roommate - Jeff later that day. But after you drop him off, Carter will be out of town for a few weeks. You forget the exact amount of time but you think he said 3 or 4 weeks. So, naturally, 3 days later you have a new boy toy, with every intention of still getting back to Carter in 3 or 4 weeks.
Now, nothing is better than having your best friend move to town, in my case Angie. This of course leads to Friday girls' nights, which leads to our traditional toast: "Here is to getting black out drunk or going home early." Lets just say, we never choose going home early. So 3 weeks after Carter has been gone, and long after I forgot to keep track of time, the toast comes out and after a couple of shots and a few beers, we call our friend Jeff. He agrees to meet us out for some wild and crazy times.
After a few more rounds of shots, Jeff shows up with a friend...and a fairly attractive friend (or so said my beer goggles). Jeff starts doing introductions but by this point, I really don't care about his name or how we know him. Cutting to the chase, between more shots, a few beers, and getting iced (yes apparently people still do that), Angie, Jeff, new boy, and I ended up back at Jeff's house. We played some rock band, drank some more...
One thing leads to another and the next thing I know I am hooking up with new boy, despite Angie's very nice offer to share her cab with me. And again with the fuzzy.... I wake up, realize I am in a place I recognize. Oh wait, still at Jeff's house. Oh crap, that's Carter's house too. Ugh! But, the new boy is cute and I asked multiple times to be sure Carter was still out of town the night before. So, no harm in breakfast and picking up our cars, and then watching the hockey game at their house like we planned. So, still wearing new boy's comfy sweat pants and t-shirt, we go get breakfast for us and Jeff, pick up his car, and head back for some good old fashion sports watching! I can tell Carter later I might start hanging out with his roommate...it won't be awkward if I say something before he sees us, right?
So we pull back up to the house and get out of the car, just in time to see Carter getting out of his. He looks me up and down and says "nice outfit" and walks inside. Now in 4 years of college, I managed to get out of every house without being seen; how in my old age did I let things slip. And what am I going to do now? The hockey game starts in 45 minutes and I cannot sit between Carter and new boy and watch it. And so begin the frantic texts to Angie... "Angie, its an emergency, please come now!" Thank goodness for good friends! After getting the address, Angie gets there in record time and I hang my head my head in shame as I get into her car. We laugh about how someone;s game should get better over time. Mine has clearly gotten worse. How could I be so stupid? We get to my house, I throw on some new clothes, a spray of perfume and some deodorant and head out to our favorite sports bar for the game.
As we head out to the game, a freshly showered Angie comments, "well I guess the whore's bath was appropriate this morning." And so the name for the new boy was born; he will forever be known as "The Incident of the Whore's Bath." Now, new boy gets credit and perhaps will earn the right to have a real name when we talk about him since he calls and asks for real dates. But seriously, as much as the nice guy and dates should make me happy, all I can think about is when do I get "The Incident of the Whore's Bath Part 2: Wet and Wild?"
And then it occurs to me, in the words of Danny Glover, "I am too old for this shit."
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