I called a friend tonight to ask him to join us for ice cream. To protect his identity, let’s call him Mr Abu.
He answered his phone in this weird, lazy, sleepy drawl.
I went, f**k no, who did he think I was? One of his three girlfriends? (don’t ask, that’s a story for another blogpost).
So I shouted at him “Who’d the hell did you think I am?”
He snapped out of it and uttered an embarrassed laugh and even a more embarrassing cover up for his faux pas.
I think some men are not meant to have two phones. Or even just the one.
(p/s: Lola said in England if you have two phones that means you’re a drug dealer.)