Walks Of Shame

The Walk of Shame is an inevitable part of the sex-scavenger’s university experience. RUTH MARINER has gathered some first-hand gems to reassure you that you are not the slaggiest biscuit in the box.

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We might not be having sex that much, but when we do, we go to town. Or, more specifically, to Girton. Or West Cambridge. Or our supervisors’ house-shares.

Behind everyone’s exciting walk of life, there lies at least one uncomfortable walk of shame. We’ve rooted around to give you the pick of Cambridge’s best (and worst) stories:

Sometimes, the shame starts before the walk itself:

“We’d been out at Vodka Revs and my mate brought some guy back with her. During their session the fire alarm went off and the whole of our hall was evacuated into the courtyard. They got separated during evacuation, and she staggered up to me for a chat. When we were allowed back in he came and found her. To his horror she greeted him with a completely blank expression because in the meantime she had completely forgotten who he was.”

A second year student, Corpus

It’s also a good idea to locate your exits before walking, shamefully, into an ex-conquest’s lair:

“I once went back with a guy to his college, and upon waking up realised that my surroundings seemed a bit too familiar. On my way out I went to use the bathroom, but instead of opening the bathroom door, I went straight into his next door neighbour’s room… and suddenly I realised I’d shagged this guy’s neighbour the week before.”

A third year student, Girton

Some Walks of Shame get worse with every step. Take this pilgrimage of pain, for example:

“My parents were coming up the day after Halloween, and so I was only going to go out for a few – but, typically, I got really wasted and ended up at the flat of some guy I’d been kind of seeing. I woke up to a load of missed calls from my parents, who were already outside my house. I had to hurry back, in my Halloween costume – a chav – and let them in.

“And if that didn’t make me look bad enough, my mum complained my room was a mess and started making my bed, uncovering my vibrator in the process.”

An historian, Trinity

Apparently walks of shame come in all shapes and sizes. Some are very, very long indeed, and don’t even come after sex. See here:

“I bought a man back all the way to Girton, only to find out he was a Christian who didn’t want to have sex at all. I was so angry that I forced him to leave, despite the fact he didn’t have any money for a taxi or bus and was forced to walk.”

A third year student, Girton

Remember: never mix business with pleasure. Or supervisors with sex, for that matter:

“My DoS lived opposite a guy I had got with at a bop and saw me leaving his room, dressed as Spock from Star Trek. Yes, ears and everything.

“Another time, I was getting with an older guy and didn’t realise that one of my supervisors lived in the same house as him.  This time I was caught leaving very early in the morning, sans shoes, in full black tie. The next week’s supervision was awkward, to say the least.”

A third year lawyer, Pembroke

And the Golden Rule for the WOS: know your route home:

“I was at a pub a little out of town and it ended up with a lock-in where I got with the pub manager. I vaguely recall getting in a taxi and going back to his, but when I woke up I had no idea where I was. I found a note on top of my clothes saying that apparently I wouldn’t wake up and he’d had to go and open the pub.

“I went downstairs, thinking I was in quite a nice house, and got myself a glass of water. I turned round to meet a 50 year old woman, shocked, who said: ‘Oh, sorry! I thought you were Jack.’ After asking, ‘Who’s Jack?’, she said, ‘I’ve got two sons: one is called Jack, and the other is called Will’.

“The only way I could work his name out was by asking which one owned the pub. I then had to ask which part of Cambridge I was in, and which was the best way to get home.”

A fresher, Corpus

So, there you are. Next time you’re making an awkward post-coital voyage across town, you can at least take solace in the knowledge that, just like those sociable Scousers, you’ll never really walk alone. Apparently, there are loads of slags like you out there.

Have you got a horrible/amazing walk of shame story? Share it below…