people they think are too drunk? But we stuck together. It was when we were trauma dumping on the steps of McDonald’ s that I told him how unhappy I was that the group had moved on without me. He assured me no one had an issue, other than Danny. The one to invite me into the group was the one to kick me out of it. The whole thing was like a disturbing bookend. I downed my drink, regretting whichever sitcom I had heard my‘ finish early’ one liner in, the joke that cost me my friends.
But as it turns out, this was not because of the one liner, or any drunken incident. This was because I was too likeable, apparently. Danny was jealous that I had kissed Zara, the girl he had been lusting over for months.
On the one hand I was sad and angry because I had lost my chance at some new friends, but on the other hand this was the biggest ego boost I ever could have asked for. My whole life, even as recently as last week, I am so used to being the jealous one. The one who watches sadly as the people I like kiss and go away with other people. But for once I got to be the other person! This all happened in November, before going home for Christmas, and I spent so much time sat at family dinners and listening to my grandparents passive aggressive speeches about why university was a waste of money, just wondering whether I should be proud or angry about what happened. And to this day I never reached a good answer.
I gave up trying to answer the question in January when I met Kay Anderson, my ex. And I found a whole new mistake to make. But that’ s a different story.
I’ ll leave it up to you whether or not I won the game. I like to think I did, but then I would say that. I think that makes a great anecdote personally, I even kept the photo booth picture me and the group took. Okay, I may not be happy to see all of them but it was a nice reminder of the story. When I started university, everyone told me it was going to be the most exciting time of my life. The amount of stories I heard from friends, family, neighbours, teachers about times they had fallen asleep naked on the side of roads, or set fireworks off inside and burnt the carpet on the same day the landlord was coming. But they’ re the tiny moments, compared to what life was actually like. If anything like that did ever happen, most of it would consist of telling the story rather than living it. I didn’ t know what any of them were talking about until that night with Zara. This was the story of my first story.
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