It’s true when left to my own devices I am, quite frankly, a loser. The last date I had was a rotic [romantic without the man, get it? Not roMANtic, but rotic? I digress].
It was a Friday night and I had no plans so I decided to stay in. I had a steak in the fridge and thought it might be a good time to grill it up. I don’t have a grill so that part of the plan fell threw, but I decided to cook it up anyway. I threw together a creative [disgusting] concoction and threw it all in the oven.
While I waited for that to cook I popped open a bottle of wine (it was white) and threw in a romantic comedy, I believe the winner of the night was “You’ve Got Mail!”
I was enjoying my evening home alone. Delicious steak, bottle of wine, good movie…and even some chocolate chip cookies my roommate’s boyfriend had made and dropped off when they stopped in for a quick minute.
The fault of my evening came at TWO points.
Point ONE: I decided it would be a REALLY good idea to have a cigarette. I had only ever had one in my life and tonight seemed like a GREAT time to have my second one. We happened to have some in the house because of a party we had had the weekend before so I grabbed one and headed out to the patio. After a miserable 10 minutes of choking and coughing I came in satisfied [ah, yes, that is why I don’t smoke].
Point TWO: I actually finished the entire bottle of wine…BY MYSELF. That’s what you do on a date, right? Drink a nice bottle of wine? Only this bottle of wine was two-buck Chuck and I was on a date with myself.
Needless to say I crawled to bed not feeling so good. The mixture of ingredients I had put on my steak tasted weird, I drank a whole bottle of wine myself and the cigarette had just muddled them all together in a sickening way.
[2:00am Yeti's immediate roommate comes home from whatever evening activity she has been apart of. She silently enters room and begins quietly navigating around. Suddenly, Yeti's sits up in bed, moans slightly, and then vomits profusely all over the carpet next to her bed.]
Liz: Holy Crap!! Are you ok?
Now, I will confess, I do not remember much about the evening from this point on. I remember sitting in front of the toilet for a while to puke a couple more times while my ever so loving and gracious roommate cleaned up my vomit from the carpet. Apparently Liz and I had a whole conversation; she tells me I asked about her evening, told her some fun facts about Will Smith and then crawled myself back into bed.
And that, my friends, is what happens when I am left alone on a Friday night.
Please…someone find me a boyfriend.