Pet Hates

Ice Cream Fling

It was the ice cream that led to the decision to have a fling.

I'd been thinking about it all week long. I knew it was going to happen Thursday night, so the Monday before I stopped on my way home to look at all the flavours. This way I'd be ready by the time Thursday came. A good idea I thought. I decided on popcorn, chocolate and black sesame.

I was feeling rather good on my way home that Thursday because a) I'd made a decision and b) I'd just eaten ice cream, so I popped into the pub to say hello to some friends.

Someone asked me "Are you going out?" (I was in such a good mood I didn't feel the need to point out that I was already out), but I said, "No, don't think I shall, I'm happy, just had some ice cream and going to head home". To which I was told quite frankly, "that's how you become a fat lonely old spinster..."

And that is when I made my mind up to have a fling.

If I had a fling, I'd prove I'm an adult and then I could continue eating ice cream without any fear of becoming a lonely old cat lady. I don't even like cats.

Which Toothbrush?

My toothbrush disappeared from the bathroom yesterday. I had no choice but to use one of my housemates' toothbrushes. Tricky thing was, how to decide which toothbrush to use? Should I have made the decision based on which housemate I like more? Or which toothbrush has perkier bristles?

You Are Not Alone

Default Wingman

We all had those friends in high school we brought home to show off to our parents.

Somehow, bringing home the choir-attending, French-speaking, math wizz, who just generally had the I-am-going-to-be-a-success-in-life look downpat, reassured our parents that their own child had a similar fate in store.

Even years after leaving school I've found default friends come in handy, say for a co-workers party or the bi-annual family gatherings. My current default Susan is 6ft tall, blue eyes, speaks Japanese and Mandarin, is well travelled and asks my parents questions such as "So what do you think of Xi Jinping, China's future leader?" If Susan is around, no one makes me feel guilty about my third serving of dessert, nor the fact that I don't have a real job, because I'm going to turn out "alright". Some of us even have more than one, incase the first choice has to stay back at the office for a difficult case, or is busy handing out soup at the local town hall.

I've had a handful of default friends I've brought home to my parents over the years. However (and don't think it's gone unnoticed) I've never found myself in the position of default friend. I just don't seem to make the cut. And it's not without trying: I cut my hair short (so to the untrained eye it is well cared for); I avoid words I cannot pronounce, such as phenomenon and hippopotamus; and I also avoid situations where I need to write something incase my inability to master cursive writing is ever discovered.

For years I've been silently disgruntled by my zero-ranked position. Recently however, I've noticed one of my single friends frequently inviting me out with her - she calls me her 'wingman'. And that was it -  suddenly all my traits that previously let me down, now make me the forerunner friend. My foibles make friends shine in front of their suitors.

I am the default wingman (or wingwoman if you will) and it feels great.