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The best thing about 101 days of this second lockdown has been having a lot of time to think about all the years I, and women like me, have wasted providing emotional support to men who can't even get it together to buy a spare fucking towel.
Men in their thirties who don't have linen on their bed because it's washing day and their one fitted sheet is drying, fuuuuck off.
Men who are perpetually in a series of short term relationships because using someone else's fully equipped apartment is easier than going to fucking Target.
If you are in your thirties and your kitchen bin is still a plastic bag hanging off the corner of a cupboard, have a word with yourself.
Oh you want to cook your "signature dish" (read: the one passable thing you can cook) at mine?
Would that have something to do with the fact I have multiple saucepans and you're still using the one your mum gave you when you moved out 15 years ago?
Would that have something to do with the fact I have multiple saucepans and you're still using the one your mum gave you when you moved out 15 years ago?
Anyway can you tell one been reading Tinder Translations and am fired up at these fuckheads who have such unhinged rules when it comes to who they want to date, and you just know their bathroom is covered in pubes.
Also you don't have to have dated these guys for this to be a thing.
How many friendship groups are there that always meet at the women's house because the men don't own enough fucking cups?
How many friendship groups are there that always meet at the women's house because the men don't own enough fucking cups?
Houses don't have to be fancy but if you can buy a bottle of spirits to take to a friend's house for drinks, but can't get it together to spend $5 at Kmart on some glassware.. forget it.
And yes there are economic reasons that can prevent people from having two sets of linen, or much stuff around the house but I am not talking about them.
I'm talking about the guys who will buy 10 pints at the pub then make you drink out of an old Nutella jar at their place.
I'm talking about the guys who will buy 10 pints at the pub then make you drink out of an old Nutella jar at their place.
If I could give my twenty year old self some advice, it would include this:
If you go to a guy's sharehouse with him and the front door is already open for no apparent reason, fucking run.
If you go to a guy's sharehouse with him and the front door is already open for no apparent reason, fucking run.
And if he says "sorry about the bathroom" you need to call a friend to come and get you. Immediately.
Does this stem from the old attitude that a man having a nice house meant he was definitely gay? Maybe.
Oh and they will never actually have any Nutella making this suss af
