Today I was supposed to meet some friends in a bar. I walked in and, being the first there, confidently told the waiter, "There'll be six or seven of us and we'll sit right here." With this type of opening, you already know the ending. Looks of annoyance from other parties wanting my table that slowly turn into looks of pity as the girl is still alone after an hour. It was embarrassing enough that I gulped my beer and gave up. I've gone out by myself before (pretty routinely) but I will always sit at a proportionately correct table, not at a table for seven.
I think I must have gotten the wrong day down for this bar-meet. Either that, or seven separate people thought it'd be funny to stand me up. I slunk home, worried that everyone who saw me, pitied me. I'll find this funny tomorrow.
An Erinku:
goo-stained
scissors
like cutting through
taffy, daily.
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