We’ve got a secret surprise hiding under our covers this year. The Hatchet will bring you two anonymous columnists – a guy and a girl – to report on sex at GW. This week Delilah’s on top. Next week Samson gets his turn.

Editor’s note: Names have been changed to protect the naughty.

I hate tattoos. Don’t have any, don’t want any and waking up next to a back full of them was not what I had planned on. No, I did not visit my local tat parlor on mind-altering drugs, I just woke up next to a guy who very well might have. Between the roaring lion, hot pink stars and lopsided shamrock that were staring me straight in the face I wanted to be run over rather than topless and hungover.

I’ll call this tattoo-covered fella “Tricks.” I picked up Tricks one Wednesday at the gym while I was up to my usual business, riding the treadmill and scoping out which guy I might want to ride next. Tricks was working the weights and between his biceps, thick rimmed glasses and stellar choice in workout wear I was ready to pull a few bad tricks myself.

“Wait, don’t you live down the hallway?” I casually asked as I picked up some ten pounders and tried to make it look as though I had probable cause for my sudden migration from the cardio machines to the weights.

“Uh, I think you have the wrong guy,” he replied, but was able to keep the conversation up long enough to find out where he lived, what his name was and where he could be found on Thursday night.

Come Thursday, my girls and I marched into party after party and slammed shot after shot. After the fourth shot and a short keg stand Tricks approached me out on the back porch as I was falling vulnerable to that drunk p-funk.

“So I really think we should hang out at my place tonight if you’re not doing anything,” he said.

At that point the only thing I would be doing is passing out or eating a whole pizza in front of my television, but my drunken horny self spoke differently.

“That’s sounds great. Lets just leave now!” and we did.

Six or so blocks later, I found myself stumbling into Tricks’ apartment and stumbling even more to unbutton his buttons and get this mysterious and suave older man reasonably naked and on top of me. As the sun came up only a few short hours later my suave mysterious older man looked more like a Travis Barker wannabe with a Super Mario bedspread and sheets! But his poor choices in body art and bedding were the least of my worries. It was Friday morning and I had a class in twenty minutes.

I knew this moment would come at one point or another. That painful terror and realization that I would be forced to walk in front of my peers and the rest of this city in patent leather stilettos and a big rats nest of sex hair at too early of an hour. I may like my hair pulled and a spanking or two in private, but the idea that everyone might get that hint as I trotted back to campus was a slap I didn’t ask for. It was my first “walk of shame” and oh, how shameful it was. Not only did I have stilettos and bad sex hair, I also had the smudged mascara and the satin going-out top to match. I had felt the stares, the glares and the laughs, and one guy who I’ll call “Ass Wipe” even felt compelled enough to yell, “Somebody had a good night!”

I did eventually make it back to my room but never made it to my class. Later that day as I was trying to laugh off the previous night’s shenanigans I got to thinking that maybe there is more to this walk of shame business besides a walk home after giving a drunk BJ or two.

When someone does a walk of shame, whatever they had done the night before is vulnerable to the judgment of friends’ and strangers naked eyes and many times is something that the person would not want to tell everyone or anyone for that matter. When someone does something sneaky or dishonest, they can cover it with a white lie, a smile or an excuse, and most of the time they get away with it because on the outside it seemed honest and sincere.

I think the walk of shame has little to do with walking home after a casual sexual experience but has more to do with having to be completely honest about who you are and what you do when no one is watching. If everyone knew when you walk down the street that you were a dishonest friend or a cheat in school, you most likely wouldn’t want to keep on lying and cheating, but since so many of us can pull it off we think nothing of it. Maybe the real challenge to being a good person is trying to be just as good as you are on the surface as you are down deep.

Now we all make mistakes, hook up with that person we didn’t really know that well or decide to drink a bit too much whiskey on that one given Thursday, but if I could give you a challenge, my friends, it would be to walk with pride, honesty and truth wherever you go and to make sure your life isn’t usually a big “walk of shame.”

Now as for what happened to Tricks? He never called, but I won’t pretend I didn’t enjoy letting him do his own walk of shame when I told him I was not interested in ever waking up to the Mario Brothers or his tattoos again.