Ohhh, the Best Friend Shack. No, I’m not talking about shacking with your best friend; this isn’t some messed up episode of will they/won’t they Friends (that was the show when Jennifer Aniston actually had a career, right?) or your little brother’s not-so-hidden girl-on-girl porn stash. I’m talking about when you and your bestie stay over (read: screw) two boys who live in the same apartment/frat house/dorm.
So you both got a little too drunk––whatever, it’s not your fault that downing bottles of Sangria and Skinnygirl Margs was more appealing than eating whatever crap dinner you were going to make. At least you got drunk. Anyway, you and your girl (is it me, or do you two look more alike the drunker you get?) have found yourselves amidst some super cuties who have known each other since high school (Awh), and now it’s bar close. You’re like soooo tired, but you guess you could go drink a few more at their place. Ooh! You have Skinnygirl Margs too?! Totes there!
(Side note: Ladies, if a man ever tells you he has Skinnygirl Margs––RUN. He’s probably more into his friend than you are. That, or he’s a seasoned professional at the getting-you-to-go-home-with-him-under-the-false-pretense-of-more-alcohol game.)
Once you get back to their place (where SHOCKER there are no Skinnygirls) your boys decide to give you a “tour” of their home. Weird, for some reason the tour ends with each of you in your respective boy’s bed. Naked. And after that joyous five, err, ten minutes you have a choice: to shack or not to shack. After a quick text to your bestie, “I’m staying over betch,” because why the hell would you pass up some free clothes and a snuggle buddy? You fall asleep.
It’s now morning, and your boy, while having an incredibly soft and like, sooo adorable shirt, has now bored you. You’re hungover, victim of some uber-disgusting morning breath (you win again, alcohol), and just want to go shower so you can get ready to start drinking again. You’re about to dash out the door while what’s-his-name snores when Oh, shit! Katie’s still here. That bitch.
And here, you make what will probably be the biggest decision of your day (besides deciding if your going out dress is too slutty tonight. Which it is, but you’re still going to wear it. Duh.): do you find your friend, and risk waking her boy? Or even worse, waking your boy? Well, that is just definitely not a fucking option, so you grab your five-inch heels, and quietly sneak out the side door.
And just as you’re walking outside, feeling a little bad for ditching your frie…Bam! You run into some bitch whose putting on her five–inch heels in the hallway. “Omgg Katie! I’m so glad I found you! Can we go pleeaassee?” And as you head home discussing which boy had a bigger…room, you remember why you’re besties in the first place.