Dear Diary: Special Lady Salmonella

Dear diary,

My life is awesome. Well, until I got stood up last evening. The nerve on some of these women. I had an evening all planned out. Pasta and shit a bottle of shiraz to boot. You don’t just do this for anyone. They have to be special.

Doesn’t sound like an asshole move. Well, at least not yet. See she calls and I can hear that she sounds sick. I mean it was so bad I think I might need to quarantine my phone. She said something about being in hospital and salmonella. Perfect! This dinner reservation was just about to be cancelled. I mean I needed to be by her side or something sweet of the sort. Get my good guy points up.

So I get the waitress – god bless her sweet ass – to pack the pasta in a doggy bag. I wield the bottle in one hand and leave the establishment. On my way out the phone rings – its miss fine AF. My first instinct was to let it go to voicemail. We all ignore that first instinct. She was drunk. Now tell me this wasn’t manna from heaven? Her knickers were on fire and she missed me. So much for food guy points now. Well, to be fair I did give my doggy bag to a homeless guy. But wait, maybe that means I don’t think miss fine AF is worth a meal? Damn.

As for my special lady salmonella she’s out of hospital. She loved the card I brought the next day with a bouquet of flowers. They were actually three lilies – but do you know how much those bastards cost? It’s the thought that counts and count it did. Things are back on track with miss salmonella. I am setting up another shiraz type night and currently ignoring miss fine AF.

That’s an asshole for you.

boquet of lillies


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