I bumped into a friend in the street the other day and we exchanged the usual pleasantries. When it came to saying goodbye, I braced myself for the inevitable.
She: "Let's grab a coffee sometime!"
"Sure..." I feebly reply to her retreating head. And then slunk off home, pondering my shoes and the nature of girly catch ups compared to manly ones.
Lady pals of mine. I request that we put an end to this 'coffee' crap. Pints or no deal.
(Pints of wine, preferably)
Coffee is the bitter, acrid, blackened slime I wincingly down in the mornings to cope with the alarm of waking up to another day of living. All that getting up and doing things. Wearing clothes and washing them. Eating and excreting. Showering and getting filthy again. It never ends.
My dear friends, I don't want to associate you with my morning medicine. I want laughter, merriment, dancing and embracing and above all I want to get pissed.
I asked a male friend if he ever gets invited out for coffee by his male friends. Cue much laughter and derision.
"I'd ask if they were feeling okay. Then probably find different friends".
I don't want to find different friends. I just want to get my current friends drunk. Away with this sedate, china-bound po-faced potion and bring in the maker of good times, bonding, ambitious planning, punning, singing, regrettable photos and dancing on tables. And I don't care if it's 5pm on a Wednesday. All the better. Happy hump day indeed.