Listen. You and I need to have a talk. I’m going to try and put this as nicely as I can without coming off as an insensitive and judgmental bitch. But I’m starting to see a theme develop whenever you and I decide to spend time with each other.
I think we can both agree we’re fun, lovable and almost refreshing by ourselves, but that a lot of really “neat” things happen when we inevitably get together. Like all those times that you’ve given me the social encouragement to say whatever I feel like. You know, the things that I probably would say if you weren’t around but you just give me the added push. Though, I didn’t appreciate the time you pressed the whorish mouth button and I told that really cute Chiropractor to prove his skills. With his mouth. In the bathroom of the bar. And then maybe in my car.
Thank goodness actions speak louder than words and that you also make me hella distracted. I saw a girl with the most amazing cankles ever and had to take a picture. Seems once I got my bountiful ankle fix, I no longer felt the need to dare him to jump on my very irresponsible and slutty verbal filler train. Ohhhhhhhh no, I was more interested in his porn stache that he was growing out to support “testicular cancer”. Yeah, I had about 27 pictures of it on my phone the next morning. He also had an abnormally long tongue. I have no idea why I thought THAT was so interesting. Nevertheless, 38.5 pictures of it were burned into my camera roll.
With your help, that night I also found a midget, managed to lose every god damn thing on my person (which never happens) and woke up in my friends apartment dazed, dehydrated and staring at my busted watch on the concrete floor. Thanks for having my back, dick.
How about that time that I met one of my girls for “just one” of you and proceeded to belt out Whitney Houston AND Madonna at the gay bar BY MYSELF because my friends got hungry and I refused to leave before I finished my set list. Surprised it was a Tuesday Night? Naaaaah, I didn’t think so.
That night ended with my friends dragging me to another bar where I proceed to throw myself down on the ground because I see a dog in the bar. Pretty sure I let that hound make out with me. Who lets dogs in bars? Then I took off my shoes.
You’re also the really bad influence who almost got me into a verbal fight with the bouncer at that piano bar. I REALLY wanted to bring in that parking cone I yanked from the corner of Tucker and Washington. He wasn’t as amused as I was. Hater.
I just don’t understand why you and I can’t be on the same page. We could really have something if you would just get your shit together. I’ll give you some time to think about where this relationship is going and you can get back to me. I’d prefer to sit down face to face with you and talk about this like two very put together adults, but I understand and respect your need to feel comfortable. I just hope for the sake of both of our egoes, we can reach a compromise that works for both of us.