My Dear Friend I think you’re an idiot

I’ve just this minute found out that you’ve gotten your girlfriend pregnant.

I should be very happy for you, when in fact I’d quite like to knock your head off of something very hard, tie your hands behind your back and demand to borrow the TARDIS from The Doctor in order to go back a few months so that you never meet her.

We (me, the boyfriend and friends) have told you since day one that she was out to get everything she could from you. First it was staying in your house 24/7, even when you were at work or with us. Next it was unofficially moving in with you, then getting a key to your house when you wouldn’t even give your friends of at least 10 years one for case of emergency. Then she got kicked out of college for never showing up because hanging on to your every word was more important than her education.

Next came the jokes of how she’d deliberately fall pregnant in order to ‘keep’ you and get money from the government. Yes, even you made these jokes.

You don’t ‘do’ kids. You’ve always, always said that if you actually managed to get a girl pregnant you’d make her get rid of it (you always are a charmer that way). In fact at the moment you’re drinking yourself under the table with the boys, just to forget.

I love you as a friend, I really do. The fact that I don’t find your girlfriend very interesting has nothing to do with the fact that at the moment I think you are the biggest idiot on the planet. Because you knew what her little plan was and yet here we go, you’ve fallen for it hook, line and sinker

I really hope that this is what you want, friend. Because you’ve now got to grow up. No more drinking as much as you can every weekend, getting drunker than the weekend before. All nighters? Yes you’ll still have them but not in the way you still do. And more to the fact, somebody else will rely on you. Yes, you. The person who finds is acceptable to eat 2 days out of date meat and eggs and mix your drink and drugs. The boy who still acts 16 even though you’re 23. In around 9 months there will be a little you on this planet (god help us all), needing you to do everything for them. You can’t even phone your own taxi home most weekends.

Don’t get me wrong, we’ll all be there for you. But I think your an idiot, really I do.