We’ve all done it, and know it all too well. These infamous “walks of shame.” I’ve spent many nights crashed at someone’s house because of being drunk. I’ve woken up on my friend’s couch or floor with another friend, we’ll call him Andrew, on many occasions. We usually plan this out, without telling all of our other friends. We just “happen” to both get drunk those nights.
But anyways, so the house we always crash at is some really good friend’s of ours house. They have a 5 year old little girl. It’s always a super happy surprise for her to come out of her bedroom in the morning to see her Titi Rae and her Uncle Andrew asleep in the living room. I’m usually awake, so she climbs up on my lap and we cuddle and whisper and giggle while Uncle Andrew still sleeps. It’s kind of precious, actually. But I always feel a little bit embarrassed when she walks out there and sees us. She doesn’t think anything bad about it, she’s just so excited that her Titi and Uncle are both there. I usually get up in a hurry, go to the bathroom and make myself somewhat presentable to walk out of the house…in last night’s clothes...the “walk of shame” clothes.
One night our plan didn’t pan out quite right. The guys all called me up and asked me to go to our friend’s house to play a drinking game. Well, a friend of mine from North Carolina was in town but didn’t feel like going out. She was planning on going to bed anyways because it was after 10 pm, so she went to bed and I headed to our friend’s house. As I wrote in my post titled, “I Remember, Too.” my dad is an evangelist. He was on the road and I didn’t expect him to be coming home that night.
Sure enough, many shots in, I get a text message saying he was going to be home in about 30 minutes (it was midnight at this point). All I could say was “oh, shit” over and over again. Obviously, I had every intention of spending the night at my friend’s house because of how drunk I was at this point. I honestly had never been this drunk in my life. And of course the time I get this wasted would be when my dad is coming home. Typically, I would have just texted him, saying, “Ok, I’m staying at a friend’s house tonight, see you in the morning!” And it would have been just fine. However, my friend was asleep at the house, and him being an evangelist, would not go into the house alone with a woman asleep in there (my mom was out of town).
I literally could not even text by myself, so I asked Andrew to do it for me…no one else was drunk, by the way. So he texted him saying that I would be home later. So dad starts calling me, and I freak.the.fuck.out. I could barely form a sentence at this point and being anxious was just making my drunkenness so much worse. My dad, an Independent Fundamental Baptist evangelist, believes just one little sip of alcohol is sinful and had no clue I get a bit drunk from time to time. I handed the phone to Andrew and beg him to answer. He smiled huge at me (all of the guys are finding this to be hilarious, btw…) and answers the phone. My dad doesn’t know him from Adam and obviously asks to talk to me. I shake my head probably a thousand times and Andrew tells him I’m in the bathroom, but he would tell me that he called. A couple minutes later, Andrew texts my dad saying, “hey dad, heard you called but I was in the bathroom. I’ll be home in a bit!” So dad calls again. But I ignore it again. Apparently, he kept calling my phone and I didn’t know because all the guys had my phone and texted/talked to him while I just laid on my friend’s couch still freaking.the.fuck.out.
Andrew finally walks over to me, holds my face in his hands and smiled at me saying, “your dad will not stop calling, you have to talk to him.” So we practice what I’m going to say and I walk over to another side of the room for some reason, but Andrew followed and stayed right beside me, helping me answer questions. I did pretty well, really. I was kind of proud of myself. This night was feeling like an eternity though.
Throughout the night, many things happened that I don’t remember. Like asking Andrew to smack my legs as hard as he could because I “heard that helps to sober you up.” That’s what he told me anyways, I’m not so sure I believe that, but I guess he did it and put his all into it since I woke up with hand prints on my legs. He tells me I also smoked a cigarette because that was “supposed to sober me up as well.” I also ended up throwing up all over the floor and on my friend Todd while he held my hair and rubbed my back. I had vomit all over my shirt, so Todd and Andrew ended up taking my top shirt off of me and putting another shirt on. They also cleaned me up and cleaned up all of my throw up. My friend TJ (who is quite the negative narcissist with only an affinity for himself, so he portrays anyway), came up with a plan. He told all of the guys that our story was that I had one drink and it interacted poorly with my seizure medication, so I had been sick and spending most of the night in the bathroom.
Apparently, during one of the many phone calls from my dad, TJ spoke with him, telling him this story. Well, after a while dad is getting pissed and told the guys he was coming to get me. About 10 minutes later, my dad arrives and Todd takes my stumbling ass out to his car. This, was the worst “walk of shame” of my life, thus far.
I couldn’t talk or answer a single one of his many questions. I don’t fully remember walking in the house except for seeing my grandparents sitting in the living room when I get there. Not only does my dad have to see me like this, but my grandparents? Well, shit.
I don’t remember walking to my room or anything like that.This was basically just a continual walk of shame. I just remember waking up, wearing someone else’s clothes, and remembering bits and pieces of what happened, wishing it had been a dream. I texted my friend who was in the room next to mine and told her what happened. I didn’t want to leave my room at all because I just knew it was not going to be good.
I’m going to get kicked out of my house. Or at least yelled at and told that I was a sinner and not living my life right. I cringed and just laid in bed for as long as my bladder would allow me to.
Much to my surprise, there was nothing. Not a word about the night before except, “do you feel better?” I answered, “yes, a lot better.” Did he actually believe the story the guys told him? What is happening? This was awhile ago and there has still not been a single word spoken about it since. I guess he recognized that I am an adult and I make my own decisions and live my life the way I see fit. Who is this dad and where did my actual one go?
I guess that’s about the worst one so far. A close second would be walking back into the bar, after “doing the deed,” with David in my car. Another semi-drunken (more like tipsy) “walk of shame.” Maybe I should stop this whole getting drunk thing. But this INFJ-Sometimes socially anxious-Virgo, tends to need a little something to loosen up a little bit. I’ve really only been “drunk” about 5 or 6 times in my life. Tipsy? So many times. I’ve never been this drunk again, and never intend too, either. I need a little bit more control than that. Nothing wrong with a few drinks now and then, but getting completely hammered in order to “have a good time,” is not necessary.
Balance, my friends. Find your balance.