So, you met a hottie out on the town. Against your better judgment (because you can imagine what your mom would say if she knew what you were doing), you went home with him. And it was fun. Really fun. Your clothes are strewn around the room and if you weren’t so exhausted from the marathon romp session, you would be a bit more worried about where the hell your underwear was at the moment.

You pass out as the sun begins to peek its way out from behind the tapestry haphazardly hung over the window, the gent’s arm wrapped around your waist.

Then you wake up. You turn over the boy has his back to you. He’s snoring. You run to the bathroom to pee, trying not to wake him up, but hoping at the same time that you do. After all, it’s sorta awkward; you can’t just leave without him getting up. That would be weird.

You come back into the bed (after searching frantically in the bathroom for some mouthwash/gum and fixing your hair/makeup so you still look fresh) and he stirs. You make a joke about how tired you are and throw yourself into the bed. Random conversation ensues and most likely includes discussion of hangovers, how much you drank last night and how that water you chugged before bed was just divine.

And then….what? You know what you want to do. You want to have morning sex. Who doesn’t? Morning sex is the best way to start the day. (Some people think Wheaties is the breakfast of champions, but you and this boy both know the truth.) It is pretty much a given at this point, but neither of you really know how to broach the subject, mostly because you are both sober now and things are slightly awkward.

Do you ask for it? Do you pull the blanket down and go to town? Do you start nibbling on his ear? Does he even want to sleep with you?

You kinda fall back to sleep. You wake up. You talk more. This goes on for another 30 minutes.

Finally, you both sorta pass out facing each other. Then he puts his arm around you and starts rubbing your back. You put your arm around him and start scratching his back.

And that’s the signal.

Suddenly, you’re off. Just like that. Grabbing at each other. Gripping, huffing, getting it on like to dogs in heat. The shorts and t-shirt he gave you to sleep in? Gone. The blankets from the bed? Gone.

And that’s that. It’s over. You lay around for a few more minutes, realize that it is now late due to the time wasted trying to figure out a way to get busy and pack up (read: search for) your things to head home. You kiss him goodbye, thank him for a great time, tell him you’ll Facebook him later, and run home to chug a Powerade and scarf down a stack of chocolate chip pancakes.

Or is that just me?

[Photo courtesy of dearsugar.com]