Friends don’t let friends drunk dial … or be an intern

I feel like I drank this much.

 First, let me apologize to all those out there who I drunk dialled last night. My sincerest, sincerest apologies. Also, please let me explain why I got so rat arsed. 

On my way home from work I decided that, as I was new in town and didn’t fancy staring down the barrel of a boring weekend, I’d try to make friends with the most unfriendliest of flatmates. On the way home I stopped off and got a chocolate gateau and a bottle of wine from M&S. The scenario I had planned out was thus: 

  

Scenario One: 

Me: Hey, what are you two up to tonight?
Them: Oh nothing much.
Me: How about a girlie night in with a bottle and some chocolate cake.
Result: Friendship ensues. 

Scenario Two: 

Me: Hey, what are you two up to tonight?
Them: We’re going out to see a gig/meet people at the pub/to the cinema, etc.
Me: Ah, well I brought home some cake and wine if you’d like to have some before you go out.
Them: Sure. And why don’t you come with us.
Result: Friendship ensues. 

Reality:
Me: Hey, what are you up to tonight?
Marathon: I’m going home this weekend. (She lives in Balloch.)
Me: Oh what’s Fringe up to. (Obvious, I called her by her real name, not ‘Fringe’.)
Marathon: She’s gone to see her sister for the weekend.
Me: (I pull out the cake and the wine, but before I can offer her some as a sort of ‘let’s be friends over sweets’ peace process, Marathon cuts me off and says…)
Marathon: Why do you have a whole cake?
Me: (As she said this in her turned-up nose way, I panic.) Just had a craving. You know how it is when you get a craving. Can’t resist.
Marathon: No, I don’t know what it’s like. I don’t get cravings.
Result: She walks out the room to leave me wondering if her statement was sarcastic and meant ‘of course I get cravings like everyone else’, or if she was just being a bitch. 

So, after Marathon left I sat down and ate a whole chocolate gateau and finished off a bottle of red wine. And then when that was finished, I went to the off licence and bought two more. I have half a bottle left. 

I only vaguely remember drunk dialling. And if that was R I was talking to, sorry for calling while you were in class. I forgot about the time difference. (Now that I think about it, it would have been 7pm. What were you doing in class at 7pm?) And, as I’m sure my bill will show, I forgot about the cost of calling overseas. Same goes to you B. Sorry for calling in the middle of the night. 

And, the worst of it, I think I drunk dialled the boy. I vaguely remember begging him to come get me because I hate it here. I think I may have asked him if I could come live with him. But these are only vague recollections. And I don’t know if I actually talked to him, or left it on his voice mail. What I do have proof of is this text he sent: 

Stop ringing. It’s the middle of the night. I’ll call you tomorrow. 

Ouch! 

So, I am now staring down the barrel of a boring weekend, in a city very far from home, where I no know one, and I can’t understand a word anyone says. I should have gone and taught English in South Korea for a year like the boy originally suggested. I’d be in the same situation, but at least it would be a more interesting blog. 

Note: If you don’t know what ‘drunk dialling’ is, go to The Year of the Lady.

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