A story I never tire of telling is the one about The Naked Girl Who Walked Into My House One Morning. It goes down very well at parties. If you're ever on an awkward first date and you need to regale your companion with an uproarious anecdote, then I grant you permission to use this one. Just remember to change the names to protect the innocent. And so you don't look like you're re-telling someone else's story.
So about a year and a half ago, when Sean and I had just moved into our apartment, we went out one Saturday night to see a friend's band playing in a bar. When we got home, we were so tired (and "tired" is what I'm putting instead of "drunk") that ONE OF US forgot to lock the front door. Because I'm telling the story, we'll make it him. So I woke up around eight on Sunday morning to hear this weird scuffling noise, which I subsequently ignored because I thought it was the cat. And because it was eight on a Sunday morning. And because I was hung over. And because I thought the front door was locked so HOW WOULD ANYONE EVEN GET IN?
And then I woke up again maybe half an hour later to see a naked girl standing in the doorway of my bedroom, looking down on me as I slept. Oh wait, did you think you read that wrong? You didn't. THERE WAS A NAKED GIRL STANDING IN THE DOORWAY OF MY BEDROOM, LOOKING DOWN ON ME AS I SLEPT. We stared at each other for a good long time---me thinking my god, I must be hallucinating, I'm never drinking another $1 mystery beer again---before she turned and ran into the bathroom, closing the door behind her. When I shook Sean awake, whispering 'hey, um, there's a naked girl in the bathroom," he ignored me for the first few minutes because WELL, WOULDNT YOU? and then he finally got out of bed, walked over to the bathroom door and flung it open, fully expecting to find an empty bathroom and not expecting in the least to find the naked girl sitting on our toilet PEEING.
And because Sean is nothing if not a gentleman, he very calmly closed the door again so she could pee in peace. And then he called an emergency meeting---proposed topic: Holy Shit, What Are We Going To Do About the Naked Girl Peeing In Our Bathroom---which we conducted in panicked whispers. I don't remember much about it, other than a lot of wild-eyed staring at each other and questions like "are you SURE you don't know her?" and "wait, are you SURE this is definitely our house?" and then one of us decided that we had to confront her. So we crept into the living room---me brandishing my cell phone because OBVIOUSLY THERE'S SOMEONE YOU CAN CALL WHEN THERE'S AN UNINVITED NAKED GIRL IN YOUR HOUSE, isn't there?---and we spent maybe 10 minutes having this conversation with her:
"What the hell are you doing in our apartment?"
"What do you mean? This is my apartment."
"Um, no. This is OUR apartment."
"No, it's my apartment."
"No, it's not."
"Yes, it is."
"No, it's not. What are you doing here?"
"What are you talking about? This is my apartment."
And just when I was seriously starting to think that maybe the landlady had gone insane and rented the place to two diferent tenants, or that maybe this Naked Peeing Girl was the ghost of a Naked Peeing Girl who had died here in 1863, there was a knock at the door, and our across-the-hall-neighbor Jerry was standing outside. He said "hey, I'm sorry to wake you guys up, but this morning I heard the handle of my front door turning like someone was trying to get in, and when I went to open it, there was no-one there. Isn't that the weirdest thing?" And I said "Jerry, I think we've got you beat,"
And you KNOW he only came in because he totally wanted to see a naked girl, but he pretended it was because he was so concerned. And the naked girl was still wandering around the house muttering about how it was HER apartment, and at that point I thought hmmm, I think we need to cover this naked girl up, and this is the part I'm kind of embarassed about. Because I went through maybe three of Sean's dresser drawers WITH HER STANDING RIGHT THERE before I finally found a t-shirt I could give her. I knew there was a strong probability that I would never see it again (as it turns out, I didn't) and I wasn't about to hand over one that made him look super hot, or one that I really liked the color of, or one that worked really well for layering. Yeah, whatever, don't tell me you wouldn't have done the same thing.
So I guess the act of BEING DRESSED sort of jolted her out of whatever drug-or-alcohol-addled state she was in, and she suddenly figured out that this WASN'T actually her house, and that she'd actually been sleeping over at our downstairs neighbor Greg's. We also saw that she'd somehow cut her ankle, which was bleeding, and the really, really, really mean part of me kind of hoped it was because she'd wandered outside, because there's a church right across the street from us that holds early services on a Sunday morning and if all those Good Churchgoing People had seen a naked girl walking along outside while they were parking along our street, making it impossible for us to find a parking space when we came back from running out to buy bagels, well HOW FUNNY WOULD THAT BE?
So after she'd mutttered a few embarassed apologies, the naked girl---who we by now assumed was just Greg's drunk girlfriend---took off down the stairs, and we never saw her again. And yet, interestingly enough, a week or so later, I did meet Greg's girlfriend at a party, and she was very nice and very sweet and very pretty, but she was definitely NOT the naked girl who'd been sleeping over at his house. And do you know what? I am still holding on to this piece of information a year and a half later, because SURELY there will come a time when I need to bribe Greg.