Accidentally, of course.
Buckle up, children, because this is going to be one hell of a ride!
About a year ago, I hosted a Thanksgiving day dinner because I needed an excuse to get wasted wanted everyone to know how thankful I was for having great looks, a fast metabolism, and a beautiful personality them in my life. With such pretty feelings in my heart and a delicious 4-course menu full of foie gras, I felt personally attacked when my vegan friend came with another vegan hoe, also known as the wife of a French classmate I hate because he’s ugly as fuck.
Like, first of all, how rude! I had only invited my vegan friend out of courtesy, high key hoping she would have read the menu and realized there were no vegan options for her, other than the half-withered plant I keep for decoration (and because I’m too lazy to throw it away).
Secondly, if the wife was here, was the husband also coming? Because I was about to lose it.
What seemed like a terrible night actually became an amazing story to entertain people for years to come.
Turns out that this hoe didn’t come with her husband because their marriage had suddenly gone to shit become complicated. I mean, I’m not surprised, the guy was horrible inside and outside and she was way out of his league. By that, I mean that she was also ugly, but not as ugly as him. But she was Peruvian, so it made a lot of sense to marry a French guy, no matter how disgusting he was. Oh, the things one has to do to get a better passport!
It was not long before her emotional breakdown got between me and the salad. I didn’t know if I should pass her the dressing or a Xanax. It was pretty bad. She ugly cried her heart out saying that she should have never cheated on her husband, because he had been so sweet and nice to her and he just didn’t deserve that.
Meanwhile the rest of my guests and I skipped the main course and went straight to dessert because pumpkin pie goes great with tea. And this tea was boiling hot.
So things were going smoothly but then Satan sent me a signal and I was all too eager to take it.
My vegan friend: Come on, it’s not like your husband was good all the time!
Me trying to be a part of the conversation: Yeah, I mean, he right swiped half of my friends on Tinder.
Both the wife and my vegan friend: WHAT?
So, apparently, when my friend said he wasn’t behaving either, she just meant he liked to drink and party, not terrorize try his luck with all the single ladies of Montreal. Well, that was very misleading.
Turns out they called me a liar and accused me of making that shit up, and I might be many things, but I am not a liar. So I did what everyone in my position would have done: I showed them the screenshots, because of fucking course I had screenshots.
Now, the story could have ended up there, but there was a plot twist. I later found out that that Peruvian bitch was on Tinder too right swiping all of my friends. So why was she so fucking crazy in the first place? I mean, she was playing the same game and clearly was more successful than her husband, please explain.
So anyway, I put the last nail in that marriage’s coffin. Am I proud of it? No, but am I sad? Not at all. I showed everyone that I’m a messy bitch that lives for drama and that I can back all my claims with readily available screenshots. My street cred leveled up by 100.
