Why is it so hard to simply walk home?

On Saturday, after getting back from the funeral and the post-funeral family "fun", I went to a dessert party. First, I had a little trouble finding the place, because I didn't pay attention to the address--I thought it was in Freddy, but it was in University Village. Soon after I arrived, all the other males left--I guess I just send out some kind of signal or something--and I was left with a decision: would it be more awkward to stay and be the only guy, or leave simply because I was the only guy. Having just gotten there, I thought it would be more awkward to leave, so I stayed.

At the end of the party, there were just 4 people there, counting myself. Suddenly, worries about me walking back home surfaced. After 2 offers for a ride home, an offer to stay and wait for the next bus, and an offer to call the drunk bus for me--which included the question "Can you act drunk?"--they finally resigned themselves to the fact that I was going to walk home. As I was leaving, the oldest of the three asked if I had a phone. I held up my cell as proof, and she told me to call if I ran into any trouble. I think I rolled my eyes at this, but I was facing away from her, and I replied simply with "I will."

On my way home, not much happened. I saw a streaker (who got his clothes stolen by his buddy as he was running across Stange and back) and a group of people trying to climb the statue that's just south of MacKay, but nothing dangerous. When I got home, I was tempted to text all three of the ladies so that they would know I was safe. It probably would have gone something like this:

You can stop worrying now, I made it home with all my body parts still attached and all of my belongings still on my person.


I know they were just being good friends while worrying about me, but it bothers me a little that people worry about me so much. I nearly gave in to the offer of a ride--there was no way I was getting on the Moonshine Express--just to abate their worries. If they had kept going for a couple more minutes, I think I would have.

There are a couple things that I found funny about them trying to act like my mother.
1. The oldest of the three of them is still nearly three years younger than I am--one of my teeth is older than she is. Seriously, I still have one of my baby teeth.
2. My mother would have given up a lot sooner than they did. She knows me too well.