If you haven’t experienced this, my hat and heels off to you.
My worst “accompanied” walk of shame involved the guy I was seeing insisting of walking me home after a particularly large night. I could barely see straight let alone trying to make small talk. All my energy was devoted to keeping last nights kebab out of the public eye. This guy (in typical male fashion) was completely unperturbed by the fact that we’d downed enough tequila to kill a Mexican the night before. I had to sit through him ordering a large breakfast with all the trimming while I stirred my lemonade.
Still, it couldn’t be worse than being made to do the walk ALONE! I will never forgive this particular gentlemen for thrusting me out into the daylight like a new vampire one several separate occasions. I know, you’re wondering why I would put up with that on multiple occasions. When you figure it out, would you let me know. Anyway, having to hail a cab wearing yesterday’s suit and requesting to be dropped home rather than at work is, frankly, mortifying. I came accustomed to packing sunglasses when I thought I might end up out with him just to have facial cover up the next morning. The arsehole had every excuse under the sun for not driving me home in his perfectly functional Land Rover: “I lost my keys”, “the car is smelly this week”, “my parents are expecting me at the dock in like, 5 minutes” (I shit you not).
The dreaded walk of shame is something guys will never truly comprehend. They can muster the bed hair without so much as a second glance in the mirror, whilst girls skulk out into the sunlight dragging their dignity in their Phillip Lim 3.0.
If it can’t be avoided, follow the anthem blog’s golden rules:
Always pack fold up flats in your bag, heels in hand is a dead giveaway!
Sunglasses. Or a burka
Don’t under any circumstances get on public transport. Fork out for a cab no matter how far away you find yourself. You are trying to limit human interaction not encourage it.
Master a fake phone call scenario. This fantasy conversation should include stating loudly that you’re off to a event such as a wedding, birthday party. Anything that will excuse your current attire.
If your skirt is so short you can see your ovaries, borrow a big T or a pair of trackies, the boyfriend look is in even if you’re single.
If all else fails…fucking own it. You can guarantee all the joggers and mothers groups sipping on babycinos you strut past at 8 am are jealous they weren’t up all night to get lucky.
“You could put a blond wig on a hot-water heater and some dude would try to fuck it.”
― Tina Fey, Bossypants
Think I’m cynical? This women is a genius, and absolutely any woman who feels less than slightly together should get their un-manicured paws on a copy.
Ruth Field, the author of Run Fat Bitch Run brings back her no holds barred approach to life. Within the first chapter, she will have you second guessing your “dilly-dallying” ways in every facet of your existence, including your love life.
Whatever the goal, this self help of sorts will help you get there. Be prepared for a quick one-two punch to the face. She will not cuddle. She will not console. She is the opposite of advice for your closet girlfriend over a glass of fruity merlot. She will tell you in no uncertain terms to stick your excuses up your clacker and get on with the task at hand.
My favourite little pearl of wisdom from all 223 pages of grit?
Conversation and attitude to life. A non -whinging, non-blaming attitude, and being interested and curious about life, will make everybody fall in love with you.
Nothing is sexier than attitude and like a moth to the flame, people are drawn to people who care about people. Next time you’re out, ask questions, look engaged. Sitting on the sidelines of life will have you looking more mournful than a Taylor Swift video clip. And just about as dateless.
Get the good shit here: Get Your Shit Together
Special thanks to my oldest friends B & G for ensuring this made it into my library, and now yours The AB xx
Those who say they’ve had an easy break up are, quite simply, full of it. I’ve had plenty, and none of them are pleasant. I preferred having 4 teeth removed in one sitting.
My cruellest break up? Boyfriend of little over 6 months. Going well, or so I thought. I was ‘saving’ myself for a special night, which as you can probably guess from the post thus far, never came.
As I’ve said before, I’m a massive fanof ending relationships with the same dignity with which you started them. So, unless you’re entire relationship was played out online (like a particularly creepy flatmate of mine once did, shudder), then end it face-to-face godammit.
This guy had the right idea, wrong execution. A nice leisurely Sunday breakfast with papers and coffees, then back to empty pad. I thought we were going to make out. He had (seriously less exciting) ideas. I get girls being dumped for being ‘slutty’. I mean nothing says “I love you” like sexual partners in the triple digits. But dumped for being virginal? Novel.
But this bloke did a brilliant job. I got to listen to his anguished monologue about how he didn’t sign up to date a 19 year old virgin, and therefore he thought it was best if we didn’t see each other anymore. Except for every Thursday night at Greenwood (the place for teenagers to cause absolute carnage) for here until eternity.
I managed, some many years and a couple of sexual partners later, to go round two with this bloke. Yes, I had amnesia and a lobotomy.
This time, he chose a much more subtle way of ending things when he got too emotionally attached. I simply didn’t wrangle an invite to his housewarming, whilst 40 of our closest friends managed to make the cut. To make things suitably awkward, I texted him and asked whether he was worried I would steal his cutlery. No reply.
Guess I should have listened to him the first time round.
Never should have said hello, never should have let me eyes turn back!
I’ve been having a lot of contact lately with an ex. Not untoward, mostly long boring conversations where he wants to chat about feelings, and I’ve got him on loud speaker whilst dusting the cornices.
But it did get me thinking: if you go back to the ex for a spot of sex, does your tally increase? I’m just trying to keep numbers down…