Written while drunk.
1. “I’m not drinking tonight.”
Oh, okay, fuck you. You just came over to my apartment where I have all this booze that I paid for and all of these dreams of going on a friendship-fueled, socially-accepted binge. But now, I will not only have to drink alone, but also have no one with whom to compare my drinking, therefore completely losing pace of how much I consume and, clearly, being the asshole of our duo when we make it out while you look sober and great.
2. “Yea but did you smash?”
Do you think that if I had had sex with this girl I would have told you the entire story while completely neglecting to mention the sex part? I wouldn’t have even brought it up if there wasn’t some larger existential point to the story that doesn’t have to do with the sex that I didn’t have. Rather than just pigeonholing this entire story into an acute and abject personal failure, why don’t you just appreciate the narrative, plot twists, and other intricate dimensions of human nature I have exposed you to?
3. “Can you pay for _________ I paid for __________?”
Insert anything in the world into these blank spaces and I will hate you equally. Is this some kind of tit-for-tat relationship we have here, in which we keep some kind of running mental ledger of all the petty things we cover for one another? Did you really file that slice of pizza away in the back of your head so that the next time we jumped into a taxi that costs four times as much you could try to stick me with the entire ride? You evil fuck. If I gave it two minutes thought, I could come up with seven thousand things you still owe me three bucks for, but I don’t have the time to do that and my memory has been fried by booze so seriously just fuck off and fine, I’ll pay for it.
4. “I don’t have any cash” or the even more insidious “I don’t carry cash.”
So what, now you have a fucking piece of plastic and somehow you’re too good for paper currency? You know, the easiest and fastest way to pay for things and to help service professionals and dining partners not hate you? Oh Jesus, I’m sorry, you didn’t realize that three quarters of Brooklyn drinking establishments are cash only? And now you need to borrow from me? I’LL BE REMEMBERING THIS $3 ROLLING ROCK ON THE CAB RIDE HOME, PAL.
5. “Can I bum another cigarette?” **sheepish grin**
Oh, you’re so bashful and cute about it, you niggardly fuck. Don’t apologize to me with your eyes like you’re some cute girl that I’m willing to pay for stuff for because I have dirty and evil and inappropriate thoughts about what it might get me later. I don’t want anything from you except for you to go drink-for-drink with me and not say any of the other things on this list. This is just a sport for you. Not even a sport, it’s a piddly little game in which you decide that when your inhibitions are down you’re going to just indulge and get crazy. Forget about the fact that this pack is almost out and I am also chain smoking because I’m drunk and I hate myself for smoking so much and I’m very poor but here, live out your James Dean fantasies. I hope you get addicted too.