My Apologies

Listen. I don't pretend to be a thoughtful, compassionate person. I'm about as self-serving as they come, wallowing away in a pool of my own hedonism. So when you offered to "get me in backstage" for free, well, that was the only reason I accepted. And let's face it, this is a no-face jazz group with virtually no hand. So it's not like I'm getting a free platter of crab rangoon and fried rice here. No, it's just a perk, getting to save the $15 I had almost no intention of spending to see your "needs work" band anyway. Simply put, the Rum n' Cokes jotted down your number with the intent to get in free, whilst you misinterpreted the "get in free" part. Sorry, nope, I won't be calling you back. So when I run into you the next day (ya got me again, universe) I don't want to hear about how you're all hot and bothered that I, uh, blanked out on the whole calling you business. Not to mention the fact that you're a good decade older than me.