Being chronically late all the time is 100% a choice

Hey there, you lovely people that always show up on time. Ya know, those weirdos that somehow manage to catch the bus, or leave work on time, or god forbid leave early to make sure they get to an event at a reasonable time. You know who I’m talking about, you’ve seen us before, faintly blurring into existence in the foreground as you stare at your phone, nodding, paper-faced and muttering to yourself as you casually show up to our baby shower, 2 weeks late, with a half-drunk bottle of cheap wine and a pack of Huggies Size 3. <br><br>You know, I used to have friends whose forehead was creased by the deep wrinkles of chronically being late. They are the ones that will text you at 12:00 saying they are “5 minutes away”. They are the type that will ask you, “ready to go?” at 12:00, grin in your face as they wander over to the fridge and grab one more beer, open it and proceed to finish their video game. It’s now 12:30, and they still haven’t even thought about loading the car or grabbing their car keys or shit, we haven’t even decided which car we are taking! If I calmly suggest we leave, without sarcastically yelling “are you fucking kidding me” at the top of my lungs while spinning my head in 360 degree circles, they give me that pitiful puppy look, and I am instantly shamed for not understanding that they’re not actually ready to go. <br><br>I have two kids now, so I no longer have the luxury of standing by idly, arms crossed while I watch our window close and melt away as my friend tries to figure out what flavor of Big Gulp they want to get. I have removed these people from my life because I no longer have the luxury of being late. I still have a few friends that are chronically late, but I just ignore their timelines now, or simply don’t tell them what the actual time is. It’s not worth the anger and the frustration anymore.<br><br>For those of you who are “chronically late”, this is your official notice to either get your shit together, or get out of my life. If you can’t respect me enough to be considerate of my time, than I’m better off without you. I’d much rather spend my Saturday clearing aphids from my rhododendrons by myself than stand around by myself at the front door of the venue wondering where you are. I just won’t do it anymore, and neither should you.