What Not To Do

1

I'm not going to a bar tonight. I swear I'm not going.

"Come on. A night out would be so fun!" said Christine, adamantly urging me to move closer towards the door.

"You are relentless!" I sighed.

"Yes, which is why you're going." I rolled my eyes and tugged my arm back. "Please! It'll be great!"

The thing was, no it wasn't. It would've ended horrible one way or another.

"I'd much rather spend the night with my date," I told her, plopping on the couch.

She sighed, looking down and shaking her head, "Are you referring to the couch?" she asked, pinching the bridge of her nose.

"Maybe." I kept my eyes locked on her as if I could persuade her to see my point of view as I put a handful of popcorn in my mouth. She squinted at me in her 'I'm gonna kill you if you're not kidding' sort of way. Seeing as she most likely hasn't changed her opinion on the matter, I began to pet the couch, my gaze still locked on her eyes and my mouth full of popcorn. She facepalmed herself, so I said in a high pitched voice, "C'mon Christine. You know you love me. Just sit on me. Good ol' couchy. You know I love your warm bottom on my cushion. C'mon. You know you want it."

In hindsight, that probably wasn't one of the highest points of my life. I'm just happy that she's been friends with me long enough to find that normal.

She scoffed at me, took the bowl of popcorn from my hands, and dragged me by the feet to the door. "But I have work tomorrow," I whined, as she strapped shoes on my feet while I was still on my back on the floor.

"So do I," she said.

"Checking women's vaginas is a much more difficult profession than talking to cats," I said. "I'd rather not go to work hungover."

"Anna, I don't speak to cats for a living. It's much more complicated than that. Pro-fes-sion-nal cat con-sul-tant. Does that sound like a job where you just talk to felines all day long?" I nodded my head. "Well it's not! I create a bond with the cats. I study them. I understand them. I create an emotional connection with them. I--y'know what? Whatever. You just don't get it."

I rolled my eyes at her again. "Right what's not to get about getting paid to meow to a cat and make baby noises all day long?"

"Okay that's it! You're definitely going to the bar now. You need to lighten up, Miss My-Ass-Is-Tighter-Than-The-Vaginas-Of-My-Patients."

My mouth gaped open and I lightly hit the back of her thigh, still on the ground. "What about you? You need to learn to go to places alone Miss My-Only-Friends-Are-Felines."

"EMOTIONAL CONNECTION!" she screamed.

She pulled me off the ground. I stood upright and stiff in a soldier position. "We're going," she said. She quickly put the bowl of popcorn on the kitchen counter and ran back in record time. She grabbed my arm and opened the door. I grasped the doorway with all my might...which isn't much nor was it enough.

Long story short, I went to the bar.