I’m going out with a group of girls from work tomorrow night. I’m trying to remember the last time I went out with a group of girls from anywhere, and I think it was in 2000. I’m no longer in touch with any of those girls, but I don’t think that has anything to do with the night out.
You know, I’m getting on a bit. The last time I did this, I was under 30. Therefore I don’t know what one wears on a girls’ night out when one is over 30. I’m going for a red-skirt-black-jumper sort of outfit, but maybe that is all wrong. And I’m not sure I’m capable of clubbing until 11, never mind 2. I would rather be at home with my winceyette pyjamas and a mug of ovaltine, by which of course I mean the internet. I think I still prefer hanging out with people I can’t see.
As you know, I have eyes only for Pete, and clubbing is therefore redundant to me. I have no wish to pull, and dancing won’t be any fun without him. Rejecting blokes used to be part of the entertainment, but I suspect I’m too old for that to be an option now; I do, however, have a secret weapon: The Paper Napkin Email Rejection Service – just in case.
Give them firstname.lastname@example.org (or paamail.com, to be less suspicious), tell them it’s your address, and when they write you, they’ll automatically get a response telling them how badly they’ve been rejected.