Sadly, this kind of thing isn’t an isolated incident — you’d think I’d have learnt my lesson by now. No matter how many times I lose my keys and have to traipse to my friend’s house at 4 am or try to defend the man who stole my phone as “having his own shit to deal with”, I continue to operate under the belief that these nights, these cursed occasions, could really be it.
Maybe it’s from watching too many romcoms. After all, Bridget
never would’ve met Mark Darcy if she hadn't been at the Annual Turkey Curry Buffet, would she? With every reluctant ‘yes’, I’m dreaming of my own Richard Curtis
moment, picturing myself cutting the wedding cake and gazing longingly into my soulmates’ eyes as I exclaim “and to think if I had just stayed in and watched Wild Child
, I wouldn’t have bumped into this one.