Tales From My Screwed-Up Childhood #16

What’s worse than having your parents force you to go to a birthday party you don’t want to attend? Having someone else’s parents force you to go to a birthday party you don’t want to attend.

In middle school, my best friend’s little brother was having a birthday party. I got a perfunctory invite but didn’t plan on attending due to A) the somewhat annoying nature of the birthday boy, B) the fact that I wasn’t friends with the kid, and C) the realization that I’d rather spork my own eyes out than spend 5 minutes with the corduroy pillow-humping creep (a description I did not just make up, sadly). Unfortunately, my best friend’s mom, under the mistaken impression that my friendship with her elder son had stifled her youngest’s ability to maintain friends of his own (see C above and you’ll know why that wasn’t true), told me that I could not have my best friend at my upcoming birthday bash unless I attended the party of his younger brother.

Luckily, my best friend got sick the day of the party and his mother consented to allow me to leave the gathering early in order to keep him company. Sigh. Heart of a saint she had. (She kept it in an urn on the mantel.)

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