Is it weird that it bothers me that I will seemingly never be one of those suave chics who can slip out after sex without waking the other person up? I mean, you see it in movies all the time. The guy/chic wakes up the morning after to find themselves alone and questioning what time the other person bailed... Me? Not so much. Sure, I can get up and get dressed and grab my stuff all unnoticed. But doors? Doors seem to be an issue for me. The little chain thingies, they make a boatload of noise as I slide them over and out and then try so very quietly to lay them along the wall without them clanging. Then the door handle which seems to scream as I turn it and then the door itself sqqqquuuuueeeeeeaaaaakkkkkkks the entire time I open it and then won't shut properly without almost being slammed.
All of which is followed by a phone call a mere thirty seconds later from the dude still in the bed saying, "you ok?"
Once, just once, I'd like to get a call the next day saying, "When did you leave?"
Labels: Being a Chic, Being Retarded, I actually had sex
