ExposedNYC

I never understood the term “walk of shame”. When it’s morning, and you’re heading home in yesterday’s clothes, among people who are going to work or just starting their day, I would think we should be proud that we had more fun than they did! It reminds me of one of my favorite comedy routines about men being embarrassed about buying tampons (and I can’t for the life of me remember who said it, so if you know who I’m talking about, please let me know). This guy was trying to convince men that they should run through the store holding them over their head screaming, “I’ve got a woman at home waiting for me!”

Sorry, I’m getting off track. I’ve got jokes on the brain because I started last night at Caroline’s Comedy Club. Fred’s roommate, who I’ll call “Funny Guy”, is a comic and invited me to come see his stand up routine. After getting over the fear of being heckled by someone who knows too much about me, I invited some friends and agreed to show my support. He put on a great show, and invited us out to a local bar afterwards.

After a few drinks, he turned to me and asked if I was coming back to their apartment, as if that were perfectly natural. I told him I didn’t think so, because Fred was at work, and we hadn’t planned to see each other. Then he tried to talk me into surprising him by being there waiting for him when he got off work, because if his girlfriend did the same, it would be the greatest present ever. I was skeptical, and tried to explain to him that the difference was that I’m not Fred’s girlfriend, and wouldn’t want to put him in an awkward situation.

Funny Guy was persistent, and called Fred at work with some excuse that he needed to talk to him that evening. Fred promised to head straight home after work, and Funny Guy turned to me grinning and said, “You owe me one.” This guy should win an award for being the ultimate wing man. So, against my better judgment, I talked the bartender into letting me buy two miniature bottles of champagne to take with us, and we jumped in a cab.

When we got to the apartment, Funny Guy and I threw in a DVD to kill time until Fred got home from work. I only made it through about half of the movie before the night caught up with me and I realized I was exhausted. I went to lie down and before I knew it, fell fast asleep, figuring I’d just get woken up later.

It turns out I got a great night’s sleep because Fred never came home. Funny Guy woke me up this morning and said he called after I fell asleep and something came up. I knew I should have trusted my instincts. So, as I headed out the door and walked to the subway, it was without the usual extra spring in my step. I was just annoyed that I hadn’t woken up in my own bed, and now had to do my own personal walk of shame among the morning commuters. I was no longer a girl coming home from a great night on the town. I was just someone who had slept in her clothes.

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