Regular readers will know we hate parties. Frankly, regular readers probably hate parties too. But we bring JOY today. Because actually there are some things we like even less than parties, especially the ones that bear some similarities.…
Hahahahahaha. Yes maybe when we were 22 and off our heads with FOMO and the rest. Now the idea of leaving a party late enough to make it to an after party? And then actually going to the after party? We are now hysterical with laughter. *wipes eyes* *clutches sides* *make it stop* #inbedby10.
Vomiting, lying/falling asleep on the bathroom floor and waking up at 3am with an overwhelming feeling of despair, sweaty sheets, breath of death – thanks Noro, now we have all the symptoms of an epic hangover without actually having been out.
A smear test
Pointless small-talk before you get down to it. You are always wearing the wrong clothes like a jumpsuit so you have to strip off completely. Or you are wearing embarrassing pants – massive ones, holy ones, slogan ones. No wax obviously. And THE LIGHTING. So harsh. You look 1000 years old and the speculum hasn’t even been lubed up yet.
The circling pointlessly trying to find a space. Or the slowing down, thinking about whether you’ve got the nerve to actually try and fit into it, then deciding in a micro-second that you don’t and feeling the waves of parking shame descend as you pull away. Or maybe, in another universe, you do decide to take the space and give it 25 attempts before abandoning it, causing a catastrophic traffic jam and giving yourself a semi-nervous breakdown.
Seeing your therapist when you don’t want to
Having to answer all the questions: how’s work going? How are you? How’s your relationship? How’s your mother? When all you want to do is lie under a blanket with a tub of Ben & Jerry’s cookie dough. And you have to pay £100. *wishing you were at party*