Two married couples who drunkenly befriended each other at a wedding, were awkwardly avoiding one another while navigating the hotel breakfast buffet.
Thirty-four-year-old Jane Edwards said, “it’s like the walk of shame after a one-night stand, except I didn’t shag a stranger and the ‘walk’ is me standing waiting for toast with a plate of fried eggs in my hand.”
“When I saw – oh, god I’ve forgotten their names – my instinct was to hide behind the pastries. But the wife spotted me as I was spooning fried mushrooms on to my plate.”
“We shared a weird half-smile as I had flashbacks of inviting them to our cottage in Cornwall that we don’t have, before accidentally kissing her full on the lips at the end of the night.”
“I scuttled off to a table I’d bagged near the fire exit. My husband, Dave couldn’t give a toss. It would be a different story if he knew I’d told what’s-her-face about his fungal nail infection and the donkey noise he makes during sex.”
What’s-her-face said, “I fecking hate weddings. There was a mental case I couldn’t shake. Luckily, she was so hammered she didn’t appear to remember me at breakfast.
“As long as I don’t see her husband it’ll be fine,” she concluded before dry heaving.