You went home with that turbo jackhole at the club because you were a lip glossed sweat tornado dancing on the bar, and by the time he asked you if you wanted to see the "magic trick" he learned at that seduction seminar, your body glitter had already started to melt off your shoulders. Which was one of many, many signs you were both ready to make impulsive and questionable personal choices. And trust this: the next morning that guy with the fat man jowl beard woke up, looked at you and thought, "I went home with the trailer fairy who kept requesting Soulja Boy." 

Sometimes, in this life, you get back what you put out. And I've heard plenty of women bellyache and bemoan the guy they eventually hooked-up with, and I cannot be merciful about this. Douche attracts douche. I understand that you were wearing Vodka Goggles, but let's be honest here: being drunk simply lowers defenses and impairs judgment. It doesn't lobotomize.

Having a couple few drinky-poos oftentimes just reveals our basest, trashiest desires. On some level, you went home with a toolbox because you were attracted to the toolbox. If you really had wanted a higher caliber man, you wouldn't have started the evening off with the Jell-o shots.  You wanted to have a good time, you got it, congratulations. No one got hurt, no harm was done, put the angst on notice. 

It's not always a bad thing to go home with an overgrown frat boy a full ten years past his pledging prime. Women don't always get a fair deal when it comes to hooking up. There's a lot of pressure to suck face with an amphibian, and hope it turns into a prince, or at least a duke or count. One of the benefits of douches is they can be consequence-free fun. You know, a lady's got needs, yo? It is one of the great lies perpetuated against she-kind, that you don't have superficial sexual desires. Oh, but you do! Because I have been that total douche! And you have been the one to stumble home with me! Sure, the lovemaking probably made the angels wince, but it hit the spot, like a greasy cheeseburger your bowels will eventually, and briefly, rebel against. It's not unheard of to exchange digits. Some romances have started with morning-after double-takes. 

You went home with that dude because you wanted to. Own it.