The 5-minute Trap.

My friend hit me with the most classic and least credible phrase in existence: “Get ready, I’ll be there in 5 minutes.”

I’ve known her long enough to understand that her “5 minutes” don’t operate in our dimension.

This girl clearly lives in some kind of parallel universe where time runs slower than her brain.

When I got her text, I didn’t even flinch. Why? Because I knew. I knew that her 5 minutes weren’t measured by any earthly clock. Still, because I’m an optimist (or a fool), I decided to give her the benefit of the doubt — for about 10 seconds — before going back to scrolling Instagram in my pajamas.

Fifteen minutes passed, and I finally thought, Okay, let’s play along. I stretched, yawned, and started getting ready at the pace of a snail. Jeans? Check. Hair? Decently managed. By the time I was fully ready (because miracles could happen), it had been 30 minutes. Surely, she’d be outside by now, right?

Wrong.

I called her, fully prepared to deliver an Oscar-worthy performance of annoyance. “Where are you?” I asked, already knowing what was coming.

And guess what did she say? “Just 5 more minutes.”

“Just 5 more minutes?????????”

I almost dropped my phone.

At this point, I wasn’t even mad — I was genuinely fascinated. What kind of alternate timeline was she operating on? Did she accidentally wander into some intergalactic black hole where 5 minutes equals an hour? Or is she secretly a time traveler whose clock broke halfway through?

And then, to top it off, she gave me the most nonsensical excuse ever: “There’s traffic.”

TRAFFIC?! Girl, you live ONE MINUTE away from my house.

What traffic? Did the neighborhood cats form a protest? Did she trip over her own excuses and need an hour to recover? The possibilities were endless, and none of them made sense.

And here I was regretting every life choice that led me to trust her timeline. I could’ve watched an episode of my favorite show, made a snack, or even solved world peace in the time it took for her to maybe leave her house.

When she finally arrived — an hour later, of course — she strolled in like nothing happened. No apology, no explanation. Just a casual, “What’s up?” as if she hadn’t completely rewritten the laws of time and space in her favor.

Honestly, I’ve stopped expecting anything different.

Friends like her don’t just test your patience — they train you for real-life endurance challenges. Waiting in endless queues? A breeze. Stuck in traffic yourself? Child’s play. I’ve been through her “5 minutes,” and now I’m practically a Master of waiting.

You can’t change people like this. They live in their own version of reality, one where 5 minutes means whenever the stars align.

And now when she says, “I’ll be there in 5,” I’m not even bothering to get up. I’ll grab a snack, stay in my pajamas, and mentally prepare for her eventual arrival.

Because let’s face it — 5 minutes isn’t a measure of time. It’s a lifestyle. And my friend? She’s its queen.