faux-brunch me not.

we've all at some point made poor and impulsive decisions that go against our better judgement. sometimes it works out. but more often than not, we're left with a feeling of regret, a debilitating hangover and/or someone in our bed that most definitely shouldn't be. and as nice as it would be to make people disappear with the wiggle of a nose and the nod of a head, we're instead forced to be a bit more creative.

my friend carly tends to constantly find herself in the aforementioned situation. one time in particular stands out from the rest: the tale of the faux brunch.

last year, carly was dating a guy named dave. things were going well until she realized dave was a severe man-child with a weird mis-shaped head. (sounds superficial, but hey, a gal's gotta have standards). despite the amazing sex, she decided she needed someone who didn't recently purchase a peanut butter and jelly sandwich wallet and ended it after only 4 short months.

a few weeks later, carly awoke on a sunday morning feeling lonely (and suffering from the shakes as a result of binge drinking). it'd been a rough couple nights out, with very little to report back in the man department. she was craving satisfaction, something aside from her slice of 3 a.m. pizza, which didn't quite cut it. she vaguely remembered texting dave the night before. totally a great idea 8 hours prior when she was of complete sound mind and body. and shoving pepperoni pizza in her face.

that's it, she thought, i'm telling him to come over. who cares if he gets drunk and hits on my friends? i have hot friends! that's a compliment. and so what if he wears a baseball cap everywhere. it's doing him more justice than letting his gargantuan noggin roam free. i also really need to work off this piece of pizza. sex > gym, everybody knows that. this would just be helping me in the fitness and wellness department. 

you can guess what happened next: carly whipped out her texting thumbs from their holsters and fired away.

dave was clearly receptive to a sunday morning booty call and shortly thereafter arrived in a cab. clad in a baseball cap, of course. god i hope he keeps that on while we're doing it, she thought. i really don't want to see his head.

unfortunately, she wasn't so lucky. though the sex was decent.

however, after the deed was done, carly rolled over to her side and was horrified by the sight. she was face to face with the PB&J wallet. what the fuck did she just do?! she wanted him to leave on the double. and take his juvenile money vessel with him. (actually, maybe he could leave that behind and she'd do him the favor of burning it). to be completely honest, carly really didn't have plans for the day other than watching the entire first season of homeland. hell, even an entire season of glee would have been better than laying in bed at that point.

when dave got up to use the restroom, carly realized it was time. she had to make a move. so she did the only thing she could think of: texted her friend andrea to stage a faux brunch. andrea, being the most amazing wing woman in all the land, asked no questions. and 2 minutes later, sure enough, carly's phone rang.

carly: hello?
andrea: i'm hungryyyy are you almost here??
carly: oh shit, i completely forgot about brunch!
andrea: i'm soooo hungryyyy. hurry up!!!!
carly: ok fine, i'll be ready in 20 minutes.
andrea: 20 minutes?! k hurry! i'm hungry! 

reluctant to shower on a sunday, but super thankful for her dear gal pal, carly hopped in the shower, thinking dave would be gone by the time she got out. but much to her dismay, he hadn't moved an inch. and thus her dreaded worst fear was upon her: she'd have to wear jeans and makeup on a sunday.

<<enter horrified gasps here>>

so there she was. with clean, brushed hair (and teeth). in an outfit that wasn't her PJs. with a bra. on a sunday.

after what seemed like a dog's age, homeboy finally got the hint and left the premises. carly closed the door behind her and immediately took of her "real" clothes. she got back in her PJs, and enjoyed the rest of her day balls deep in fantasies of officer brody.

does dave know this staged brunch was merely a ploy to get him the hell out of carly's bed? i'm going to guess not. from what she's told me, it seems as though andrea might have a future in acting.

as for dave, he was able to gather both his heinous wallet and baseball cap upon his exit. he's still out there ladies. and if a man offers to buy you a drink out at the bar, and he pulls out a PB&J... run for the hills.

unless it's a real sando. then by all means, go to town.