This weekend went slightly out of proportions. Started with the very successful/fun costume party, Uniform and ended with a bash very late Sunday morning. My George Washington suit didn’t have any form of pockets of any kind, meaning nowhere to put my keys, wallet and mobile. Erik was my man of the evening as he promised to keep it for me.
Much later, when he left without saying I wasn’t surprised nor upset though, I just walked to his apartment and rang the bell relieved to have taken the very mature decision of having a spare change along with my vital belongings at the hands of a trustworthy friend. Someone you can rely on.
Worth mentioning now is that my borrowed shoes hurt so much it was unbelievable, I was literally almost crying and ready to lay down and die, or at least amputate my feet. Only the effort of reaching his door was by the sheer, soothing knowledge of comfy Nike kicks waiting for me inside, ready to walk me home. And a pair of jeans. So I didn’t have to look like a complete moron.
Twenty minutes later I started to grasp the fact that Erik wouldn’t open and as all my alternatives of getting a ride home was there too, I walked home. Barefoot. And if anyone paints a romantic picture in their head of a Hugh Grant look-alike walking home with the shoes in his hands, whistling as the morning neared, is wrong. Physically in addition to the emotional humiliation, it hurt like hell.
Next time I’ll tell you all about how I the next day, managed to completely lose my mobile without a single trace within the premises of my own apartment while sleeping. I’m not exaggerating when I say a posse would have been needed to find it. Luckily it wasn't needed.
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