We Know Why You Were Late


(sifting through stuff in my drafts folder)

My punctuality-impaired friend – we are on to you.

We know that you aren’t a bad person. Children don’t always cooperate. Traffic is sometimes terrible. Flat tires, weather, locusts – yes, sometimes it isn’t your fault.

But sometimes, it just is. Like when the birthday party/baby shower/wedding has already begun and you are still fucking with your winged eyeliner. Or how you can never quite make the movie before the lights go down and we wind up standing there for 10 minutes waiting for our eyes to adjust and still manage to trip and spill popcorn. Or, when you are supposed to be meeting your friend for sushi, but you are trying to get that Instagram filter just right. Do you think we don’t have Instagram? (Also, you undertip, but that is not what I came here to talk about.)

Listen- we get it. You think you are being polite and considerate by making up a plausible excuse for why you are never, ever on time. But here’s the thing: everyone knows that excuse is bullshit. Everyone. You might as well own it. To help you out, here are your favorite excuses for being late, and what we know they actually mean:

“I had car trouble.” Because I wasn’t in the car. I was nowhere near the car. I was too busy tracking down a pair of clean underwear, because when I should have been getting dressed I was trying to bingewatch OITNB for just one more minute….is it just me or does Piper get a little less likable each episode?
My wife/husband lost my car keys.” I don’t actually want to be here. In fact, in a few minutes I am going to fake a phone call from my spouse who allegedly needs a ride, because I want you to think that this event was so important to me that I borrowed the other car without asking. You should feel bad for even questioning me.
“My alarm clock didn’t go off/I fell asleep on the couch.” I was masturbating. Oops.
“My kids blah blah blah my kids.” It is possible that I don’t even have children. If they are not imaginary, they had nothing to do with this except that they are a convenient and believable excuse on which to blame my character flaws. If there are children with me, then all of that is still true except that they aren’t old enough to talk and defend themselves.
“I had a family emergency.” By “family” I mean Pinterest, and by “emergency” I mean “too busy looking at Mason Jar dinners to care about your wedding.” I didn’t even bring a gift; that was an empty envelope from my cable bill that I threw on the table.
“Traffic was a nightmare.” I was actually going to make it, but as I was running out the door I had to go to bathroom and all hell broke loose. I don’t know what I ate, but it was angry. In fact, I need to go again, and I’m just going to go ahead and tell you now – you might want to give it a minute.
I wasn’t feeling well.” I like tequila. A lot.
“I must have misread the invitation.” I would rather be getting a mammogram from Charlie Sheen than be at this event. Baby showers give me hives. I think that the diaper sniffing game with the candy bars is horrifying and the only reason I’m here is for the mints and cake. And because I don’t want to hurt your feelings. Congratulations!

It’s ok. Don’t you feel better, now that you’ve been honest? We sure do! Now, can we talk about the time you flaked entirely because you “moved to Nepal?”

Whatever.

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