I have a theory that a good morning-after is a sure-fire sign of a love that is true and everlasting. Why? Because nine times out of 10, the morning after a first hookup is one of the most uniquely awkward and all-around horrendous situations in which two human beings could possibly be placed.
Being trapped alone with an acquaintance for an extended period of time already doesn’t sound very appetizing to most of us. Now, let’s put you two in a bed naked and hungover.
Let me outline the pits of this f*cking awful situation to you by running through some common morning-after thoughts:
Where am I?
Not proud of it, but anyone who has ever enjoyed a few too many tequila shots has been here one time or another.
The couple minutes before you’re finally able to put two and two together are arguably the longest, most petrifying and humiliating 120 seconds of any human being’s young life.
Is my breath okay??
We all know the answer to this question: no, my breath is absolutely not okay. In fact, my breath smells like 17 cows recently died inside of my mouth.
The good news is, my partner’s breath most-likely also smells like ass. Can’t wait to spend the next hour making small talk with our faces an inch apart!
When did this apartment turn into the Mojave Desert?
It’s f*cking hot, in the least sexy way possible. Spooning was a cute idea when we fell asleep, but now, his nice, chiseled man arms have turned into the bars holding me prisoner in this hot, dry desert that was once his bedroom.
Like, it’s 5,000 degrees in here, dude, GET YOUR SWEATY PAWS OFF ME. All I want is a nice, cold cup of water and I'm seriously thinking about amputating his arms and liberating myself.
I would give my right arm for the chance to pee right now.
This could be easily fixed by a quick trip to the bathroom, but things are a bit more complicated when I am literally being held prisoner between his giant man body and the wall.
Let’s analyze in, detail, every choice he’s ever made with regard to room décor.
Room too messy? Ugh, probably a lazy slob. Too clean? Type A control freak. Why doesn’t he have any decorations on his wall?? Probably a sociopath. Too many pictures on the wall? Creepy.
Who has a Twin XL after freshman year of college? Overgrown man-child.
In what world did I think this guy was hot?
Realizing my drunk eyes betrayed me once again is always a punch in the gut. How in the world did I miss the receding hairline and not-so-faint onion scent? Maybe he has a good personality?
Holy sh*t, what happened to my face?
As much as I want to judge his receding hairline and onion scent, I gotta be fair and admit that I don’t quite look like the gorgeous party goddess he brought home last night.
In one night, how did I transform from 2014 Beyoncé to 2007 Britney Spears?
This is literally the worst small talk I have ever had to endure.
The only thing worse than forcing someone to endure the scent of your horrid morning breath is sitting in awkward silence.
The only solution to this is, unfortunately, to engage in an unusually painful dose of awkward small talk as you try to suppress your burning desire to exclaim: “I DON’T GIVE A SH*T ABOUT YOUR PLANS FOR THE DAY, JUST PLEASE LET ME GO!!!”
How do I get out of here?
Must plot exit strategy. If I gently move his leg and arm off of me, then pick up my phone from the nightstand and my clothes from the ground, I should be good to go.
Pleeeease let someone be awake to pick me up so I don’t have to pay for a taxi.
Where the F are my underwear?
Or my bra? Or my top? Or my dress? Okay, where is all my clothing? This really puts a giant wrench in my getaway plans. Do I wake him up and have him help me look? What if he can’t even find them??
What if my favorite dress was literally swallowed by some weird sexual black hole vortex?? Maybe he’ll let me borrow that sweatshirt over there. That looks comfortable.
Can I get a sheet check?!
Blood, urine, drool and mascara stains are real and they’re a problem. How do I casually check for these while maintaining the world’s most boring conversation?
Stomach, please shut the f*ck up.
Please don’t fart. Please don’t fart… okay, at least it was silent. Please don’t smell. Please don’t smell.
Do I wake him up??
It’s five in the morning and I have mastered my exit plan. Articles of clothing have been spotted and an exit route has been calculated.
But, he’s soundly asleep. If someone woke me up at five in the morning to tell me anything other than the house was on fire, he or she would automatically be named my arch nemesis. But, what if he’s different?? I don’t wanna be rude, after all.
Also, I never gave him my number. Maybe I’ll put it in his phone… but, what if he wakes up and sees me creepily on his phone?? Ugh there is no winning.