Lost in Translation is our weekly column from a college guy’s perspective.
Baby, it’s cold outside. Freezing, actually. I go to school in the south, where balmy Novembers are not all that irregular. But this fall and winter, especially this damn December, has been bitter. I actually like this season. Studying for finals isn’t nearly as bad when you look outside and see people bundled up in layers while slipping about on the icy sidewalks. It might very well be my favourite time of the year to be on campus, as we have holly bushes on one of the quads that makes it feel a lot like Christmas. But it happens to make morning afters a hell of a lot more awkward.
I’m not sure it there is a definitive etiquette when it comes to waking up in someone else’s bed, but if there is, I must have missed the memo. Nothing ever feels…right. Spooning is great. But my arm is asleep and my fingers aren’t moving when I tell them to. And this hangover isn’t making lying still for you as you rest your head on my shoulder any easier. Pulling myself out from underneath you allows blood to return to my extremities, but then we’re just two people sleeping in a big bed with an oversized down comforter stretched between us. Which is nice and all, but it feels as if I’ve just been stripped of my reason of still being there when your roommate peeks her head in to see if you want to have brunch. And she’s giving you that look, like I’m that guy, that mistake, since we aren’t wrapped around each other.
I usually would just roll out of bed into my pants when I blinked to around dawn, throwing on my socks and shoes and leaving before any of this ever happened. But have you looked outside? There is no way in hell I am trudging through the sleet back to my apartment. I’m kind of sort of hoping that you’re going to offer a ride, and until then, I’m just going to pretend that I’m still passed out and unconsciously pushed you across the bed. And, next time, would you mind asking your roommate to make all three of us coffee, rather than just you two? I’m not looking for much. Morning sex? That’s probably definitely on my mind. But I don’t need any cute conversation about how we both liked each other for a really long time, ever since we were in that freshman seminar together, and just were too shy to ever say anything. Please. No. If you don’t want me lying limp, well, mostly limp, on the other side of your bed, drive me home. Please, drive me home. Oh, and if you want to go start the car and turn up the heater, that’d be swell.
And, sidenote: I saw you naked last night. Why the humility this morning? Am I expected to cover myself when I walk across the room to where you threw my boxers? I hope not…that is unless it’s just as cold inside as it is outside. But that is for other