A couple of weeks ago my boyfriend went on holiday to Mexico. He was gone for two and half weeks, staying in hostels along the coast before finishing off – the jammy shit that he is – by getting put in a 5* hotel by the flight company after they cancelled his plane.
I, on the other hand, stayed in England. I worked 9 til 5, Monday to Friday, and spent time with my friends on the weekend.
I’m opening this post with the biggest oxymoron ever: I am pragmatic at heart. I have always thought in terms of logistics – how I can get things done and what is manageable/unmanageable within a certain time frame.
At an early age, it was deciding when I went to bed (always around 10.30 on a school or work night) and what time I got dressed on weekends (always before 11am unless I’m allowing myself a lazy day). In recent years it’s been deciding what I want to eat for tea, when to schedule my blog posts and when I’m going to go to the gym.
I’ve always been a fan of drinking. When I finally reached the age where my dad started letting me take more than one Smirnoff Ice to the “parties” my friends used to throw, I would always take any opportunity I could to get at least tipsy and have a good time with my pals.
When I got to the age of 18, where I could legally drink in clubs and bars, I wanted to be out every weekend with my friends. And then when I got to university, I found myself in the bizarre situation of being able to go out almost every night of the week because, and here comes the most frequently spoken sentence in of anyone at university, “first year doesn’t count”.
We even understand that participation medals are just for participation, too.
So are you like, 70% girls and 30% guys or the other way around?
Interesting you should ask that, because my sexuality is actually 100% none of your business.