no one likes a barnacle.

i love a good sleepover. sleepovers are so fun. in my opinion, the sleepover can be more gratifying than the actions that take place during said time spent in bed. sure, it feels great to boast to your pals about getting some strange, but if the sleepover sucks, or you get the boot post-coitus (which, for the record, has never happened to me) i have to say bragging rights diminish substantially.

i also thoroughly enjoy cuddling. with everyone and anything (i'm lovable, what can i say?) but there's a distinct line between proper snuggling etiquette and cuddling gone wrong. the rules are simple:

*the gal should typically be the small spoon.
*contact need not be maintained throughout the entire night.
*feet don't necessarily need to be constantly touching.
*sleeping position must be optimized for minimal audible snoring.
*spooning and bear hugging. not the same.
*passing out whilst holding hands (or any other body part) is strictly prohibited.
*control the direction of your breathing. no one likes hot breath on the nape of their neck. or in their face.

...easier said than done. as my friends and i have experienced many a snuggling violation. the most recent offender: the barnacle.

a barnacle can be defined in one of two ways:
1. a marine crustacean, usually having a calcareous shell, that attaches itself to ship bottoms, floating timber or rocks.
or 2. a person or thing that clings tenaciously.

tenacious hardly even begins to describe my friend molly's encounter with the barnacle.

it had been a long saturday of day drinking and debauchery for molly and her friend allison. upon night fall, they headed over to allison's guy friend's place to continue their journey to hammered-town-usa. it was there that molly made her acquaintance with the barnacle.

now, the barnacle wasn't a terrible guy. he was very sweet and smart and cute (a tad on the shorter side, but that's neither here nor there) and fun to be around. but as much as molly enjoyed hanging out with the barns, she wanted nothing more than to ensure his placement in the friend-zone. the night continued with her extended friend-zone efforts, yet it seemed the barnacle was oblivious to it all. and somehow at the end of the night, molly looked around and noticed neither allison nor her guy friends were anywhere to be seen. she was stuck at balboa cafe, playing liars dice with the barnacle.

suddenly, her phone rang. she was saved! it was her roommate asking if molly could come home on the double, as she was a victim of lost keys and was stranded on the front stoop.

molly: "shoot, i really gotta go. my roommate is locked out of our house. thanks for the beverages and... dice.. i guess. see ya later!"
barnacle: "are you going to be ok getting home by yourself? i'll help get you a cab."
molly: "...uh... i'll be fine. seriously."
barnacle: "no. i insist. let me walk you outside."

and, in true barnacle form, he not only helped molly find a cab, but conveniently ended up accompanying her home.

determined to repulse the barnacle so he'd be forced to excuse himself and go the f home, she devised a plan:
1. she made a drunken feast for her and her now-rescued roommate and began to shove as much food in her face as possible.
2. she started drunk dialing her guy friends, pretending they were booty calls, in hopes barnacle mcgee would take a hint.
3. she put on the most heinous set of pjs she could find.
4. she washed her face, making sure to remove any and all forms of makeup.
and 5. she whipped out her mouth guard.

but alas, her efforts were fruitless. and the barnacle went in for the make out sesh.

molly: "i'm not hooking up with you."
barnacle: "why not?"
molly: "because i don't want to."
barnacle: "...ok."
molly: "i'm going to bed."

feeling a hint of guilt for being so bluntly bitchy, molly let the barnacle sleep in her bed. which she now tells me was one of her most epic mistakes of all time. it started with the spooning. such a tight grasp as if he were holding on to molly for dear life.

arms, legs, feet. all entwined.

in attempts to escape, molly would move her foot a few inches to the right. and the barnacle's foot would follow. she'd move her leg. his would follow. she'd try to shove him gently with her elbow. he wouldn't budge. she'd try to roll further away. his hand was still under her head.

after hours of laying wide awake in the depths of barnacle nation, molly finally removed herself from her bed and relocated on the couch.

she'd never felt such euphoria.

molly awoke to the sun beaming through her windows at 9 a.m. she didn't even care that she was blinded by the light. or that she was crippled by exhaustion and a debilitating hangover. there was no barnacle in sight! he was finally gone! she searched her entire apartment to double check (you can never be too sure you've gotten rid of a barnacle until you have the utmost confirmation). the coast was clear.

although he did leave behind a text message:
"sorry i had to leave so early! i have a 7:30 am conference call for work. hope you have a great sunday! talk to you soon :-)"

is this guy for real? did he not think it was completely awkward and mortifying to wake up in a girl's bed alone?! where did he think molly was? is this something that happened to him frequently? so many questions that still remain unanswered. but, needless to say, molly never saw the barnacle again.

what a grade a sea creature kook.