I am not a morning person. My grades for my morning classes are always my worst, my roommates are scared to talk to me before I've had my coffee, and my hangovers have earned me the nickname 'Grumpy.' This is exactly the reason why I hate having sleepovers with the opposite sex. I'm no longer the fun, sexy girl they met the night before, I'm the haggard, disgruntled monster hogging all the covers. Whenever I spend away from the comforts of my own bed, I always try to leave as early as possible while having the briefest sober conversation possible. This is easiest when either the guy wakes up before I do, or I can pull the "ughh I have Friday morning class!" card. Neither of these transitions were available to me this past Sunday morning. I awoke at 8 am in a bed that was not mine next to a man whose name I could not remember. Not only was I uncomfortable with this sober situation, I also felt the pressure of every drink I'd drank the night before in my bladder, and trust me, I'd drank a lot of drinks. I didn't care if it made me a bad person, I was ready to run out of the apartment before What's-His-Name even woke up. I tensed my muscles ready to make a run for the door, but as soon as I started to roll out of the bed What's-His-Name gripped me harder. He was spooning me with a vise-grip, rendering me trapped! However, while the rest of my body was in paralysis, one arm was free. With that one arm I felt around the floor blindly for my purse. I found the chain link strap then shimmied my hand down the strap to the pocket of my purse that my phone was in. I raised my phone high enough to see the screen, but low enough so if What's-His-Name happened to wake up he wouldn't see me on my phone.
My bladder was in critical condition, so I 911-ed a text to my friend I'd gone out with the night before.
"SOS. Call me in 10 min." I had a plan worked out in my head, but I needed the help of a girlfriend to pull it off. I turned my ringtone to "Calls Only." What's-His-Name couldn't be woken just yet.
"Haha, okay. So last night was bad?" She answered in the next minute. At 8 am on a Sunday. That's a good fucking friend.
"No, but the morning is. Pretend we have breakfast plans." I placed my phone back on the floor next to me and cozied into the spoon.
I'm either going to die from my bladder exploding, or I'm going to pee the bed. I wanted to just urinate right there in the bed, but I couldn't remember if What's-His-Name was average cute or fucking sexy so I didn't want to take the chance. Just hold on a little longer, bladder. Help is on the way.
Sure enough, exactly ten minutes later my phone started ringing. I put on a pseudo-disilusioned air and pretended to wake up as I felt What's-His-Name genuinely waking up beside me.
"Mmhmm... Hello?" I muttered sleepily into the phone.
"Hey... I don't really know what to say," my friend's voice was like angels singing a song of salvation straight to my bladder.
"Shit, what time is it?" I said, 'snapping out' of my groggy demeanor.
"Is he still asleep?" She asked.
"I'm so sorry, I almost forgot!" I sat up in bed.
"So, how was his penis?"
"Nooo don't be mad! I'll be there, I promise," I grabbed at the foot of the bed for my dress.
"Did you blue-ball him?" I would've gotten annoyed with her if she hadn't been my savior.
"Ok, I'm coming now, bye." It was truly an Oscar winning performance.
I hung up the phone and turned to the previously unconscious body next to me. "Hey," I said in a sleepy, morning voice that contrasted drastically with the urgent, my-bladder's-going-to-burst voice that was screaming in my head, "so I actually have to get going now."
"That's okay," he smiled sleepily. "Damn, it's so early. Where do you have to be?"
I let out a big sigh to emphasize how much of a burden my morning engagement was and said "It's so dumb, I promised my friend I'd get brunch with her and her boyfriend from home." I took a pause for an exaggerated eye roll, "I know, it's retarded, but it's one of those stupid things that girls get really mad about." Even I was convinced. However, my bladder was not convinced and was threatening to call my bluff right there on his mattress, so I jumped out of the bed and put my clothes back on even faster than I'd ripped them off the night before.
"Well, I had a good time with you last night," he said, burying his face back into his pillow.
"Yeah, so did I," my body was shaking I had to pee so bad. I moved closer to the door, so close to bliss, "Oh, which way's the bathroom?" I had a casual tone or voice, but in reality the question was life-or-death.
"Last door on the left," What's-His-Name replied.
"Thanks!" I said happily, showing genuine emotion for the first time this morning. Then I sprinted out the door towards emancipation and never looked back.