Me and Faustino

Well, the short version of the story is that she didn’t show up.

It would be easiest to end the story there.

At least I wasn’t dumped, or couldn’t even get to say hello.

At least I wasn’t laughed at by the girl I’d set my heart on getting chatting to, even if I didn’t get off with her.

And I suppose I ought to be grateful for the fact that I didn’t get completely legless and offend my parents again.

Bit that’s no consolation when you’re seriously pissed off, or gutted and aching and all sorts of other shit emotions.

That’s why tonight it’s a Sunday in with my new friend Faustino.

I went down to the Co-op and bought two bottles of gorgeous Faustino VII for just £7 a bottle, I know there was wine there for a whole lot less, but you’d pay more than that for a large glass in a bar.

So tonight I will be mostly sitting here feeling the angst and listening to the most melancholy tunes to sink me as deep into self pity as my mental elastic will allow me to stretch.

Look, I know nothing went wrong. But I am deeply upset. I know my stupid oh so smug married for a century parents would laugh at me, but they can do one. The very fact that they have been together forever just proves that they have no idea how shit I feel right now.

Tomorrow will be, as they say, another day, and tomorrow, as I say, will be another hungover day!

Goodnight.

 

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