Back in July I was talking and dancing with a girl for a while, away from her large group of friends. If you can get a girl away from her group, you’re more than halfway there.
Towards the end of the night, one of her friends found her. “We thought you were dead!” The friend started crying and gave one of those hugs where tears would be left on the person’s shoulder. There was nothing I could do. My girl got dragged away by a group of girls who one hour ago were too busy shaking their ass to even realize their friend existed.
The “friends” are the only people in the universe whose mission is to prevent me from getting what I want. If I’m nice to your friends it’s not because I like them but because I need their lame stamp of approval since you are too insecure to make decisions on your own. In fact, I hate them and hope they die.
Okay, not die, but I curse them to at least becoming subway bag ladies.