Look, I might not know a lot about anything, really, but what I do know is that when it's suddenly 8 p.m. on a Saturday night and you realise you've been eating chocolate cookies and telling your fortune via opening random pages of a poetry book with your best friend instead of planning Halloween outfits, mistakes will be made.
This was one of those mistakes.
Calum landed on my doorstep for the second time in as many weeks this weekend (LUCKY. FREAKING. ME.) and I maybekindasorta forgot to tell him he was my date to a Halloween party that night.
"I don't know whether to be Diana Ross or Kate Middleton," I said to him as I put another biscuit in my mouth from a horizontal position on the sofa.
Calum sat upright, "Wait- it's fancy dress...?"
"It's halloween! OF COURSE IT IS!"
"But I don't have a costume."
I did thinking. "Wear what you've got on now, add some braces and a hat, and be Louis Walsh off of X Factor when they made him be Uncle Louis," I suggested.
"BE TULISA," he replied.
And then I was all, hahahah GOOD ONE, and he was all, EXCEPT I'M NOT EVEN KIDDING, and then he was like, look, you can wear this slutty lycra dress you apparently own, and then I was like, THE ONLY REASON I OWN THAT IS BECAUSE OF THE ARTIST I USED TO SLEEP WITH WHO WAS VERY SPECIFIC ABOUT WHAT I SHOULD BE WEARING AND- and then Calum was like, LALALALA SHUTUPSHUTUPSHUTUP and then I blushed because I forget that I used to be a bit naughty when I'm so freaking pious now, and then Calum handed me the hairspray and together we dressed up as X Factor judges in full knowledge that most probably nobody else would understand.
I thought that since we understood, that was all that mattered.
I was wrong.
I spent the whole night meeting new people and saying, Hi I'm Tulisa off of X Factor. So this is an ironic slutty dress. I don't actually dress like this. Look. I've even written her tattoo on my arm hahahah [nervous laugh nervous laugh nervous laugh]. It reminded me of when I went to an election party made up of lawyers, dressed as a Tory, and had to explain to all the flicky-haired girls in pearls that I didn't actually wear a pashmina as standard, but did it so convincingly nobody believed me.
Which was awkward.
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