Hi, I am in a band and I am totes cool

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Sometimes guys invite themselves over to your apartment and bring their whole drum set with them.

Friday night. Making dinner in my apartment. Phone beeps. New text message. (Do these fragmented sentences bug you yet?)

Show-off boy: “Hey, what are you and your roomies up to tonight?”

Me: “I just got home and it looks like my roommates are already out. What are you fellas up to?”

Show-off boy: “My roomies are gone too. Wanna hang out? We could paint the town red.”

Me: “That would be fun. Maybe we could grab a treat or something.”
(Sorry I like treats and sorry I didn’t want this to turn into a marathon evening. I thought maybe we could chat over hot chocolate for an hour and call it good.)

Show-off boy: “How about we have a jam session? I will bring my drums over in 20 minutes.”

In my head: Um, no. I don’t want him to come over because I am exhausted from the longest day of work and I really do want a treat and my cupboards are empty.

Me: “Ok, that should work. I just can’t be up super late.”

He comes over and we take 50 trips from his car to my apartment to bring all of his drumming gear into my living room. I guess when he said, "we should have a jam session" he really meant, I will play 50 songs that you will thoroughly enjoy listening to. I'll be honest, he is a good drummer. But 2 hours, pal? Not impressed. 

He left at 1:00 in the morning and I didn't even get a treat.

So now I need to drive to Wendy's and get my own cursed frosty.

Gertrude