Monday, 11 August 2008

  • The Walk of Shame

    This is a guest blog submitted by sahar.

    My friend called me yesterday morning at 8 a.m. in a groggy, whispering voice.  She asked if she could come over, saying that she couldn't go home just yet and needed a place to spend the morning. I was confused and sleepy but I let her come over.

    We had been out the night before and I took a cab home at around 2 a.m.  I'd asked if she wanted to spend the night because she doesn't live in the city, but she insisted on staying out. Who am I to tell her what to do?



    So, at 8:30 when she was buzzing my apartment, I stumbled out of my warm blankets and opened the door for her.  I took one look at her and knew exactly what had happened last night.  The girl had just taken the walk (or subway ride) of shame from Manhattan to Brooklyn.  She was still wearing the same yellow excuse for a dress as last night, and her make-up was still on.

    I really wasn't interested in details. I walked back into my room, took out some pajamas for her and crawled back into bed.  She came into bed with me, we woke up four hours later and went to lunch.

    With lunch came the details.  My first impression of her that morning was right.

    I'm not proud to admit it, but I've taken the walk of shame a couple of times myself.  Have you?  Were you as embarrassed as I was?

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