Hey there, Emily?
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We met last Friday morning. Well, maybe "met" isn't the right word. I believe the first thing you said to me was, "Who the FUCK are you?" That's a funny thing to say to a guy after wandering into his apartment, passing out in his bed, and accosting him wearing nothing but a bed sheet (your own, might I add) the next morning.
Before I get too far, know that I'm not mad. Actually, I think you were pretty funny. And apparently, cute. I was, however, hungover as all hell, lying horizontally on the living room couch.
Why on the couch? Well, that's where I chose to sleep (I know, weird concept) after crawling into what I mistakenly thought was my empty bed at 4am. Laying down in my bed meant risking waking you up. Which would have ended in one of two ways, 1) the worst horror movie ever or 2) possibly the greatest porno ever. I didn't like my odds. Couch it was.
Truth is, I already have a situation. A good situation, even though "my situation" lives in another state. It's so good, in fact, "my situation" laughed her ass off this morning when I told her that one story about a random naked girl waking up in my bed.
I believe you happened to mentioned your own situation, too. Only your situation, based solely on last night (and the tacky pattern on his [I assume] bed sheets)) doesn't sound like a great situation.
That said, it won't work with us. Sorry (it's not you, it's me and my over-use of parentheses). But I have a roommate, and I think he'd be a better "situation" for you. He has nice sheets and locks his door from the inside (looking out for your safety). He also had a better look at you this morning, and seemed to like what he saw despite you tip-toeing down the hall while simultaneously skyrocketing to the top of the walk of shame power rankings.
So, yeah. Let me know. I can arrange something, or you could just stop by.
I guess you already know where to find him.
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