You walk into the club, looking and feeling fine. The night is yours. You’ve already sized up whether or not there’s cute guys/gals in the vicinity. There are about three or four potentials that catch your eye, but that person in the drink line keeps making a point of bumping into you and you decide that they’ll do and make it your mission of the night to seduce and bedazzle them.
After about eight vodka and lemonades and three regretful shots of tequila, the night can pretty much go either way. There’s something about the way they move on the DF that interests you and you decide it wouldn’t be the worst thing to go home with them.
It’s not long before you both stumble back to their apartment and do the deed. It was good enough, you both had a reasonably okay time and the next morning you leave your number on the counter just to be polite and then you get the fuck out of there before you get hit with the question "what are we doing here?" It's all a bit too much for a hungover Thursday morning and you don’t really expect to hear from them again.
That is until you see them a few days later when you’re at the chemist picking up a cream for that weird rash you’ve got going on or when you’re waiting in line in your daggy tracksuit pants at Woolworths. You suddenly realise that your groceries include five blocks of chocolate, two litres of ice cream and pads. 48 hours ago, they were in between your thighs and now they’re literally scanning your pads.
Time could not go any slower as they’re scanning your items. When it comes time to pay, there are no other options. Shakily entering your PIN, you pray to the money gods that your card doesn’t decline like it did the last two times. It doesn’t, so you grab your period package and get out of there as quickly as you can without falling over in your socks and thongs.
It's totally uncomfortable running into someone that you've slept with, especially when you're feeling a looking like shit. It's like your brain didn't realise that prior to your hook-up that person had a life and friends and a job that they went back to after your brief naked encounter with each other.
That’s the part of one night stands that people don’t tell you about. You don’t realise that they have a life that exists beyond your bedsheets because you literally know nothing about them, apart from what their tongue feels like. You definitely don’t expect to see them again when you’re looking like you’ve crawled out of the pits of hell and you don’t expect to see them out of circumstances that you both have control over.
It may seem obvious to some that hooking up with strangers can lead to awkward chance encounters, but the best way to go about bumping into them is to be polite and act casual. There’s always the option of avoidance, and that has potential to work, but only if they don’t see you running away. There’s nothing worse than finding out later on that ‘hey, you’re that chick who bolted when you saw me!’ Be strong, flash them a smile and work those tracksuit pants girl!
*anecdote may or may not be based on actual real life experience