Walks of shame.

On the way to the bus, GalPal and I came across a couple very definitely practicing a walk of shame. Er, well, the guy was slowly riding his bike next to the girl he obviously brought home and she had that slightly confused, without a compass demeanor you get when you emerge into the sunlight unsure of just what part of the city you're in and which direction is north.* My initial reaction was to laugh inside at them both. And then I realized I was actually a little sentimental.

There's something about being in your twenties and waking up in a room you think is yours for thirty seconds until you realize it most definitely is not. And there's a (hopefully) cute person in the bed next to you. And they're probably pretending to be asleep for fear of having to talk to you, so you do the same before saying "aw fuck it" and rolling over to hug them or pat their hair or let them know in some other way you're awake and it's all cool.** And then you chat a bit before blearily heading outside ad if you're lucky they have a car and will drive you home but if not you'll end up walking blocks in the wrong direction before realizing your apartment is actually over that way. And oh crap, you spent all your money on shots last night o it's going to be a long walk and who knew people were up this early?!***

But you know what, maybe you'll see that person again and maybe you won't, but you're young and you can do stuff like this and you think you're totally grown up and this is what grown-ups do but, really, most grown-ups simply don't have the time.

And I realized that in some ways I'm jealous people doing a walk of shame because it means they have the time to do so and that's something I'll never have again.

*This is even more confusing in my neighborhood since a bunch of streets run into each other or are one way and jeez is it easy to get turned around if you don't know the area.

**Hopefully the next step is surreptitiously trying to find a piece of mail to learn what their name is, but sometimes that is the next step. Whoops.

***It's, like, 7:30 a.m.