Sometimes when i’m trying to be funny i’m really not. I’m just an arsehole.
Out for drinks with good friends our waiter asked if we wanted any more starters…. I stare at the half eaten bread plate at our table, there’s 5 healthy girls drinking and we’ve only had half a bread plate in an hour, I mean I thought it was obvious.
“Well we’ve done so well with the first one, why not?” – that was my arsehole-thought I was funny-response.
From then on I am the arsehole, when my dessert comes out last (everyone else is licking their plates-kind of last) I accept it as what I deserve. When the waiter tells me he did actually forget about me we reach this mutual ground where we both despise one another and are now happy to admit this. We’d probably have great sex.
And this is why I suck at making friends, no seriously, I say stuff like this all the time. Maybe my friends even think i’m an arsehole, or they’ve accepted it. This is probably why I love them so.
Also, they accept me rocking up like below after a 13hour working day, 10mins late, a little sweaty and asking for alcohol before I even say hi. Way too casual for trendy hipster places, but i’m an arsehole so it’s kind of okay. Plus…. boyfriend jeans, hello so on trend right now. They totally have the power to make me feel effortlessly cool even when i’m spilling bread and butter pudding on a table and trying to scoop it up with my fingers muttering about the 5 sec rule. All class.
All I really need now is a pair of birkys. Urgh.