Friend Julie Birch wanted you to know that she was so astonished to notice that you were positively glowing last Sunday at brunch for once.
“Really I can’t remember the last time I saw you smiling,” said Birch, while slowly eating a Belgian waffle. “You’re like radiating good vibes. It’s so out of character for someone like you.”
According to Birch, other mutual friends have expressed their concern over your “curmudgeonly” and “grumpy-old-man-like” demeanor in the past few months, but she’s not going to tell you who they are, out of a concern for their privacy. Because, like, you want her to be honest when people are talking about you, right? Like, that’s what friends are for.
“For example, it’s not that you need to wear makeup,” said Birch. “But it’s been seeming kind of like you go out of your way not to—like you gave up on it because you couldn’t figure out eyeliner. It was really adding to the whole sad-sack Eeyore thing you had going on. Oh my god you were such an Eeyore – it was so funny.”
Friends acknowledged your halfhearted smile and willingness to just go along with whatever Julie was going on about now.
“It’s just such a shift from how you normally are,” continued Birch. “You know, walking around hunched over, all disheveled, moping and sighing all the time. But now—what is that, coral lipstick? Wow. Bold choice.”
Birch ordered a second mimosa and continued to point to the red flags that, up until that morning’s brunch, had marked you as a reliably depressed Quasimodo of a friend. According to Birch, a bad attitude is contagious, and for a long time she had been in constant danger of getting dragged down a black hole by your relentless negativity, examples of which she went on to catalogue your refusal to go on dates, your resistance to regular exercise, your strained relationship with your mother and your recent breakup.
So according to Birch, it’s just so great to finally see you feeling good for once in your life. “It’s about time,” she said, as her phone dinged and she texted someone back. “Seriously, please keep it up.”
Over 23 minutes into brunch, Birch still had not asked you about the source of your happiness, although at this point it was fading anyway, so maybe it didn’t matter.
“I’m so happy for you,” said Birch, gently and furtively reapplying her lipstick. “Whatever it is that you did, I hope you just keep on doing it. Even if it only lasts for five minutes, being happy really suits you. And believe it or not, you deserve it.”
