I was there simply as audience, as the person who watched their public displays of affection and told them how happy I was for them and how cute their boy/girlfriend was. Then they’d give me the standard, “You’ll find someone soon! Just hang in there! It’ll happen when you least expect it!” Blah, blah, blah, puke.
As you can imagine, I loved this shit. It was the best time ever and I was completely cool with that. And by “cool,” I mean: “Completely freaked out and pissed that I just lost all the people I remembered so fondly.”
I’ve heard that change is the only thing you can count on and that you need to accept that to be happy. I say, “Fuck that shit; change sucks.” Especially when it changes your friends into sexed-up, love-obsessed zombies who act like a bunch of strokes.
So I did what every level-headed, tragically-single, 20-year-old woman would do. I freaked out, cried, and watched all 10 seasons of Friends in two weeks. That’s 233 episodes in 14 days.
I know what you’re thinking: “Jesus tap-dancing Christ! This girl is amazing! How can she be single?”
Believe it. I’m real. The situation’s real. And I found my significant other on the other side of the beautiful TV screen. The sketchy kids working at Blockbuster looked at me like I was an alcoholic. And maybe I am. Maybe I am an alcoholic drunk on the beauty and perfection that is Friends.
Pages: 1 2 |
