Classic weekend scenario: You and your roommates decided while pregaming the pregame that you were going to go much harder in the paint than usual tonight (“Like, if I leave the bar with both my earrings and without stumbling like a newborn baby deer, the night is a failure”). Consequently, you took more shots than is respectful of your BMI and the kid who complimented your new top, touched your leg once during your conversation (“Ugh, he totally loves me”), and bought you three Vegas Bombs offered you a ride home.
To your home? Of course not.
Fast forward four hours and you wake up in a strange bed staring at posters of Brooklyn Decker and Beer Pong Rules. Roll over and check to see if Dude Bro is
awake attractive. If yes, sneak to the bathroom, wash your face, make yourself look halfway decent, climb back in bed, and pretend you look this flawless every morning. If no, silently gather your things and GET THE FUCK OUT OF THERE.
It is at this time that quick-decision-making skills are a must. You have two options, and they are integral in making the 20-30 minute trek you’re about to go through justifiable – or if nothing else, bearable. Ask yourself: do I want to maintain a shred of dignity, or am I chalking this up to experience and understanding that having “WELCOME TO COLLEGE!” yelled at me from passers-by is absolutely mandatory? Either way, here’s a survival guide to both scenarios.
|Merit Badge: you earned it|
You chose: The Walk of Shame – Bold move. There are a few things you should reside yourself to from the get-go. First, even if you wiped the mascara from under your eyes and fixed your hair into a casual “I meant for it to look like this” messy bun, it’s still 9:30 am on Saturday and you’re still carrying your heels. Everyone knows it. See that old man taking his dog on a walk? He definitely knows it, because he’s probably seen several hot messes walk out of that same apartment building. Do not make eye contact with him. Hopefully your side bangs have nonchalantly fallen into your face to mask the amount of indignity you should be feeling, and hopefully you recognize your surroundings well enough to bee-line it home through back alleys and side streets. You should already be on the phone with your BFF demanding immediate pick-up in exchange for a Qdoba thank-you; however, if she enjoys having you embarrass yourself or happens to be making a Walk of Shame of her own, you should immediately change your tune and hope that no one you know will be driving by anytime soon. Not that it matters: anyone who has ever been to college will know what’s up and will be yelling hilariously rude things to you as they speed by. You have no control over this, and quite frankly, you fucking deserve it, so just keep your body/pride angled toward the ground and wonder how people who just have a glass or two of wine spend their mornings.
|What an inspiration|
You chose: The Stride of Pride – You either really couldn’t care less about what people think of you, or you’ve done this so many times before that you’re a seasoned pro. Whatever the case may be, you know for a fact that smudged eyeliner is inherently sexy and that a red banded mini dress is appropriate all hours of the day. If you carry your shoes, you’re swinging those babies around like a baton twirler. Of course, the experienced Strider of Pride has slipped her heels right back on and swags past the morning joggers like it’s for sale and the rent is due tonight. When people call to you from their cars, you throw up an “Oh hey girl!” hand and smile big. This is the closest you’ll ever get to being Ms. America so you better own the shit out of it. Sure, you’ve broken out your phone, but only to have a normal conversation with your boss/mom/rabbi about the weather or the recent State of the Union address. Finger comb that rat’s nest and throw those shoulders back: you’re a veteran of the Slut Strut, and you’ve gotta show these hoes-in-training how to do it up right.