This didn’t happen to me, but I’m sure it’s happened to someone.
Scene: Apartment interior. Dark.
Man comes stumbling in, reeking of cheap whiskey and cigars. He fumbles his trousers for his phone. He dials his ex-girlfriend.
Man: I hope she picks up.
The phone rings. And rings. It clicks and the ringing stops.
The man hesitates at first to answer, but with bravado he pushes on.
Man: Heeeyyy yyou.
Ex-girlfriend: (Annoyed, yet understanding) audible sigh Why are you calling me at 3:30 in the morning?
Man: (his tone varying between a nervous wreck and a man of confidence) I was just out with the guys and we were chatting…
The man nods off.
Ex-girlfriend: Hey! HEY! Wake up, asshole!
The man wakes up.
Ex-girlfriend: You don’t get to call me and then pass out on me.
Man: Sorry. Sorry, must’ve been that fifth scotch. But, uh, yeah, we were all chatting and I wanted to see how you were doing.
Ex-girlfriend: I’m fine. How are you?
Man: Lonely and pining – mostly for you. Do you remember that weekend at the lake?
Ex-girlfriend: We never had a weekend at the lake.
Man: Wouldn’t you like to make that a new memory?
Click. Dial tone.
The man, now dejected and sitting in his still dark apartment sits and wonders where it went wrong. However, gravity takes over and the man bobs his head just hard enough to come crashing down onto his floor. He stayed there until morning.