Five minutes later he send this text or something similar to it: "Tonight is a tribute to you and all of my single friends. May we embrace our loneliness and revel in the god awfully amazingly horrible nights like this that happen on occasion."
Wednesday, April 28, 2010
young and alone.
So I recently received arguably the best phone call of my entire life. I'll set the mood. It's more or less midnight, I'm more or less naked (this is irrelevant) in my bubble bath reading The Economist and drinking wine (true story). In case of emergency (ie, I drunkenly slip underneath the water and begin to drown), I have the phone with me in the bathroom. On the off chance that I have a friend, the phone rings. It's S and he begins to tell me about the best worst date he's ever had. I'm dying of laughter, wine is spilling, The Economist is wet. After what seems like ten minutes of laughing I compose myself. Shit, what if he's offended I laughed for so long? Nope, he's still laughing as well. Nevertheless, we say our goodbyes.