Walk of Shame

There is no phrase more appropriate for the walk of shame, than “The Walk Of Shame“. It’s exactly what it says on the tin. You’re walking home, and you feel a little ashamed…perfect.

Every Sunday morning, make it a point to sit on your balcony (between the hours of 6am & 10am) and count how many shamed walkers go past, you’ll be surprised how many of them there are. They’re very easy to spot too,  just look for anyone that’s dressed up far too nicely for a Sunday morning, or inappropriately for the weather.

The women are usually the easiest to spot, they “clip clop” down the street, their heads hanging so low their messed up hair covers their faces. Shame oozes out of them. The men on the other hand, strut. It’s like they want the world to know they just got some. You can tell that they’re just hoping for someone to ask “Where are you coming from?“, to which the answer will probably be something along the lines of THIS.

The most awkward moments of the Walk Of Shame are when you finally get to your neighbourhood and you start walking past people that are familiar with you. The walk past the bus stop feels awkward. Walking past the local shops & market is awkward. And saying “Good morning” to your neighbour suddenly feels even more awkward. They know exactly where you’re coming from…you know they’re judging you right?

Inte för att jag har något med texten att göra men den var lite roligt.