To those who may be affected,
I’m sorry ok? I’m really, really sorry. I get myself in absolute pickles, no matter who, where or when. If you become embroiled in one of my many awkward moments, then feel free to feel blessed that you are not as awkward as I. I guess that could possibly be my purpose. Schadenfreude? Maybe I’m less of a Kate and more of a Princeton.
To the man I moved away from… It’s not you it’s me. You were lovely and smelt like Lynx. You were more than happy to share an arm rest and the seats weren’t so small that our sides awkwardly brushed against each other. I was just more concerned about the toilet. I wore heels I couldn’t walk in and didn’t trust my bladder of
steel plasticine to hold up. So to save your tootsies and my dignity in turn, I shuffled a little closer to the end of the row. I’m sorry it had to end this way, with so many unspoken words, but I shall always treasure the arm rest times.
To the girl I gave the stink eye to… you crossed the road with such poise and elegance. There was a spring in your step which no-one can deny. You were showing the world how to morning. I wish the glare I gave you from behind the windscreen was one of jealousy, of how I envied your pep… but alas it was not. It was down with a case of RBF. Yes, I am riddled with resting bitch face. It is a condition that I sadly live with, and I struggle to come to terms with it every day. When I’m tired, it’s worse and comes out of me like pea soup out of Linda Blair.
To the boy I got tongue tied around and ran away from… maybe you don’t smile as much as you should, you don’t walk with your head held high enough, but just know that someone out there thinks you’ve got a special something. I can’t put my finger on it exactly but, I mean, I walked into a wall because of you and your specialness. That’s got to stand for something right? Maybe you owe me the apology for being all nice and wall-walking-into worthy.
In short – sorry I’m a dork.