A couple years ago, I was dating a fireman who lived in Brooklyn. It was uber casual. It was the typical "call each other when we are drunk and hook-up" type of relationship which defined my college years. So we were off and on for about 2 years when I suddenly realized, "hey...this ain't no way to get a boyfriend", so I decided to end things one drunken night for good.
We had met up one night in May 2009(?) and had a drink or two together at a bar in my hood. While inside and to the dismay of the patrons, I began to berate him about how he has been treating me, blah, blah, blah..."you don't really like me", "who else are you dating"...you know the drill. We move outside where he proceeds to cry as I am making him feel so bad that he is dating a younger girl and not me and that he does like me (wah.). At this point, things start to go blank but I do remember inviting him up for one last night together.
so...
I come to, outside my apartment (in the hallway) in nothing but a pair of boxers.
Background: I live in an old apartment building where my toilet is in the hallway, meaning I have to physically leave my apartment with keys to my own toilet to lock and unlock it every time I have to use the bathroom, then to get back into my apartment, I have to have the keys to unlock it again because it locks automatically upon shutting.
Yes, ladies, this means I am topless in my hallway WITHOUT my keys. Clearly I had left to go to the bathroom in my blacked out stupor but neglected to bring keys with me. So naturally I take a number one on my neighbor's welcome mat and start banging on the door to wake fireman up to let me back inside. He does not wake. It is about 4 or 5am given my estimation. So I do the most logical thing at the time and run down to the lobby area, grab a neighbor's sephora delivery, open it up to try to use something in there to jimmy my way into my apartment. Tubes of lotion did not help. (This past week, my friend was visiting me from Philly, and was able to get into my apartment with a piece of trash from the street! How did I not figure it out!?). Luckily in the box there was also tissue paper which I reluctantly wrapped around my bosums and ran across the street to the cafe with a locksmith card in hand (they leave them everywhere outside my building...go figure). The nice waiters there gave me their coat to put on which I had at first refused, "I'm fine!", but then put on since there were customers inside haha. So I called the locksmith, waited outside my building in my borrowed coat and boxers, get let in, pay the dude 300 buckeroos, hop in the shower, and the fireman comes strolling out of my bedroom...
Never saw him again hahaha! But he did offer to pay the locksmith. He does not know this full story...
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