Diary of a Hookup from Hell

Abby and Peter spent a drunken night together. Awkwardness ensued. Here's how each saw it.

unhappy looking woman sitting on edge of bed with sleeping man
FRANCK CAMHI

SHE SAID Abby, 26, editor, New York City

SATURDAY 8 p.m., friend's place: Having a drink before we head to a birthday party for Peter, a guy I used to date. We have friends in common, so I see Peter every couple of months. When we drink, we hook up. But the last time we did, it was pretty clear that he thought I felt it meant more than it did.

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11:30 p.m., Peter's place: Already tipsy. Head to the roof, where the party is.

2 a.m.: Peter decides it's time to break out the scotch. He pours two glasses.

3 a.m.: Things get fuzzy. People go home. Kissing with Peter commences.

4 a.m.: Clearly I'm sleeping over....

SUNDAY 8 a.m., Peter's bed: Naked Peter jumps out of bed as his alarm goes off. He mumbles something about sticking to a sleeping routine, throws on clothes, and runs out of the room.

9:30 a.m.: I'm up. My head hurts. And I can't find my purse, which means I can't leave his apartment. Ugh.

10 a.m.: I head up to the roof, where I figure Peter is hiding. He's cleaning like a madman. Refuses to make eye contact and insists we get some food. Then he mutters something hostile about having to buy me breakfast because I can't find my purse. What a gentleman.

11 a.m.: We text a friend to see if she accidentally grabbed my purse.

12 p.m.: Friend doesn't have the bag. Finally find it in Peter's dresser drawer.

12:30 p.m.: I make to leave. Peter goes in for a casual high-five. Nice.

TUESDAY 12:00 p.m., work: Send jokey e-card to Peter. "Happy Birthday to someone I feel incredibly close to when intoxicated." Figure this will help make things less awkward next time I see him.

12:30 p.m.: Get angst-filled e-mail back. Peter thanks me for the birthday wishes, apologizes for the weekend, blames the alcohol, and says it can't happen again. I hate that he feels the need to tell me all this. As if I'm to blame.

1 p.m.: Send sarcastic e-mail back: "I always have drunken sex with my good friends. I did that with Jenny last weekend!" I have to let him know I didn't think what happened meant anything. Which I thought was clear from my first e-mail but obviously wasn't. Ugh. Guys.

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HE SAID Peter, 30, editor, New York City

SATURDAY 11:30 p.m., roof: I'm celebrating my birthday, and the party's going strong. Abby arrives. She's a girl I dated about a year ago and have hooked up with a couple times since — often thanks to alcohol. The last time we did this, I had to avoid her for a week to make sure we didn't have to talk about it.

12 a.m.: Talk to Liz (a girl I'm interested in) and her friends. Try to charm them....

1:45 a.m.: Liz is leaving.

2 a.m.: The beer's gone, so I go down to my apartment. Abby's there. We talk. I get myself a scotch. She wants one too.

3 a.m., roof: Abby sits next to me. Her plans are clear, so I kiss her. She always was a good kisser. I may regret this in the morning, but it's my birthday and nobody else got me a present.

3:30 a.m.: Set the alarm clock for 8 a.m. It'll be a good way to get her up and out.

SUNDAY 8 a.m.: Alarm goes off. I tell Abby she can go back to sleep but I need to get up because Dr. Oz says you should keep to a sleep schedule.

8:15 a.m.: I take a shower. She's not leaving, so I don't know what to do. I go up to the roof and start cleaning.

10 a.m.: Abby comes up and offers to help me clean, but I tell her it's fine. She can't find her purse. Which means she can't leave. I hope she doesn't ask to shower; I don't want to have to wash an extra towel.

10:15 a.m.: I'm starving, so I ask if she wants to eat. No brunch, because then we'd have to spend the meal talking. So we grab bagels. Since she doesn't have her wallet, I pay, grudgingly.

12:15 p.m.: Abby finds her purse. In my underwear drawer. I'm starting to think she "lost" it on purpose.

12:30 p.m.: At the door, Abby goes in for a hug. I give her a high-five. Figure it's a clear signal.

TUESDAY 12:00 p.m., work: It's my actual birthday. Abby sends me an e-card. The message suggests that she plans on more Saturday nights together. I do not.

12:30 p.m.: I write back. I apologize and tell her that Saturday has to be the last time anything like that can happen.

1 p.m.: She replies with a joke, so she must be cool with it ... but at the same time, she seemed cool with our breakup before. I don't respond. There's really not much else to say. Still, I realize that if I hook up with her again, I'm a jerk.

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