It’s 9:30 AM New Year’s Day. You started drinking champagne and vodka martinis around six the night before, proceeded to shimmy your way into random New Year’s Eve parties, put your number in several people’s phones, and woke up next to some guy/girl named Jack/Jill (names adjusted based on your preference).
You both wake up, and in between shouting expletives due to your massive hangover, and your mother calling you asking you if you’ll be at the family brunch, one of you inevitably rolls over and says, “wild night, huh?”
As you both sit there in the nude, you begin piecing your night, and find out not only did you bond over the top-shelf open bar and the chocolate fondue fountain, but also a drunkenly shared appreciation of Downtown Abbey and celebrity gossip. While in the hotel, you notice next to the obligatory King James Bible is a People magazine from a month ago. You start reading it, recounting the best celebrity romances from 2012.
An hour passes. You are both still naked. You’ve hung up on your mother twice. Your head is still throbbing, but this random who you met in a state of alcoholic bliss appeals to your senses. You like being naked, with a mildly attractive-looking guy/girl and ESPN’s Rose Bowl preview in the background. You realize you have to go to work tomorrow. Your mother is calling again.
With the clock striking 1 P.M., you come to the understanding that there’s only a couple of hours remaining on your weeklong work hiatus, and while this guy/girl is charming, you did make reservations for the mimosa and chicken and waffle brunch at the American bistro downtown. You want to burn some more calories before this unlimited brunch, so you do things not appropriate to describe in a public blog, exchange numbers, and go on your merry way.
It’s January 3rd. You are sitting at work, with your email, Facebook, work website, and JDate tabs all open. Then you get the text…
“What are you doing tonight?”
You pray it was Mr./Miss Random, and you open up to respond, but you look at the name of the sender and it happens to be… your mother.
Oops.