Fun with British personals

Me and J. Flying back to the US from London. Translating some British rag’s personals.

“Curvy.” J. looks at me, rolls her eyes: “Fat.”

“Drinks socially.” I correct: “Alcoholic. Wake up in my own sick at least 3x per week.”

“Seeking long-term relationship.” J. snickers: “Meaningless fling. I don’t want to see you when I wake up in the morning.”


???? What? An acronym we’ve never seen before.

J. furrows her brow, taps her chin with her finger for a minute, stares up. She turns to me with a devious smile.

“One Huge ARRRRSE…and cunt.”

Man, that was the shortest trans-Atlantic flight I’d ever been on.

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