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It’s Sunday morning and I’m woken up by someone knocking on my locked bedroom door. Confused, I roll over and grab my phone. It’s 10 o’clock, there are two missed calls and 32 text messages. The pounding more urgent. I sigh and open my door. Instead of Hagrid standing there with my Hogwarts letter, it’s my roommate looking like she got in a fight with her weave and her weave won.
“What the fuck do you want?” I spit at her, “Why is this even locked, and why haven’t you answered any of my texts or calls” she asks but doesn’t wait for my answer, “He won’t leave,” she says gesturing towards her room. “Can you come in and tell me we have to get ready for church?” she asks. I start laughing, because no one who was within ten feet of us last night would believe that lie.
Hank Moody said it best: “A morning of awkwardness is far better than a night of loneliness.” But why can’t I have a night without loneliness and a morning without awkwardness?
The fact is, I’m much happier in my bed without a person I barely know taking up room, snoring, and sweating out booze on my sheets. I’m not going to cook you breakfast, and I don’t want to eat the shitty under-salted eggs that you’ll make me. Yes, that’s a nice gesture, but the truth is, both of us are just wanting to get to brunch to brag about the night before.
So how do I get this drunk person who I’ve just had relations with out of my apartment without looking like a bitch who just used them for their body? I tell them the truth: “I don’t like to spend the night with someone unless we’re dating,” and it works surprisingly well. I come off as honest and if they don’t leave, they look like they have no chill. After they leave, I have the rest of the night to myself. I usually drunkenly eat whatever is in my refrigerator and cool down with a couple of episodes of The Office.
Do I always want to sleep alone? I’m not a robot, so of course I want to spoon. But to me, sleeping with someone, actually sleeping with someone, is much more intimate than sex. I know that’s backwards, and my parents would cry if they read these words. But when I compare the people that I’ve fallen asleep with to the people I’ve slept with, I know which ones I’ve felt an actual connection with. This is the reason that I don’t spend the night or have people sleep over. Sure, when I’m ready to find someone, they can share my bed. But until that time, I am extremely content with meaningless sex and a queen-size all to myself. .
Respond
…..at least someone is getting laid around here
Congrats on the sex.
she’s engaging in the chase i guess
RIP
I think all of us commenters owe Duda an apology for being dickheads, he is a solid writer.
PGP owes us an apologize for letting him go, too.
JD should bring back The Chase and submit columns to the site regularly. PGPM.
You new here? Sup?
I don’t think we’ve decided whether it’s a girl or a gay guy yet.
I took a shot in the dark. I’ll accept the consequences.
Not that there’s anything wrong with that…
Just assumed it was a chick based on the female roommate…
allegedly
trying to read into the minor details to find this answer out is almost as exciting as TGDAG
I tend to agree with this. I prefer to go to the guy’s place because it’s much easier for me to leave than try to kick someone out.
If there is drinking involved, I’ll be out before 7 AM because of the anxiety from the hangover.
Maybe it’s just me, but there’s nothing worse than waking up with a head-splitting hangover at 5am with a stranger snoring next to you.
Back when I was actually having sex, I completely agreed with this.
under salted eggs? the level of breakfast you get from me the following morning is all performance based. scale from “i think there’s some special K in the cupboard” to “hey you like french toast?”
Does Plan B count as breakfast?
If it doesn’t then chivalry is officially dead.
I can actually respect this opinion.
Hey Will, where’s TGDAG?
Maybe I’m feeling a little insecure… the post says queen-size, I read size-queen.