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The Dreaded Tip-Toe of Shame

the tip toe of shame the morning after

Shame on you.


You talked a little too much or a little too loud or in front of the wrong person.


You laughed a little too hard or a little too long or about the wrong person.


You drank a little too much or ate a lot too much because of the wrong person.


But other than a stain on your sleeve, the day ended with no damage.


Whatever you over-did is over-blown in your mind.


You went out by yourself.


Which, my friend, is not a crime. Or a sin. Or even noteworthy to anyone but you.


Everybody woke up where they were supposed to, in the appropriate attire, in the correct order.


You didn’t slink down the street after dawn or become a feast for gossip-hungry nosy-bodies.


You said good-bye before last call.


You went home, straight.


You washed your face and brushed your teeth.


You slept alone.


All you did was have a good time.


And everybody else did, too.


Because you were there. Because you talked and laughed and yes, had a couple of beers.


Why, then, in the clear light of the morning after, do you have exhibitionist hangover? You replay the night before and over-indulge on embarrassment. A conscience on over-drive is nothing like a tequila bender.


So you tip-toe as you walk the dog, but you are dressed like a marathoner to show the world you are tough enough to work out eight hours after you…… What? You’re not sure but the voices in your head are calling you names so it must have been awful.


You skip the coffee shop as a pre-caution and almost make it back to the house without being noticed when someone calls your name. You cringe and turn, recognizing in horror your neighbor’s voice as she says,


“I had so much fun with you last night. Thanks. I hope we can do it again.”



Happiness is good health and a bad memory. Ingrid Berman

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