Cellphones, Coffee & Love
 | Current mood:  fabulous Category: Friends "Coffee makes me hyper. The title of that was shine, it was going to be your ringtone but it's not cool enough." Hack, hack. "Do you need a cough drop?" "So what's going on with that one guy?" "Some times I just want to pin him against the wall and kiss him. Y'know?" "Yeah, I've got one of those. Ha ha ha." Hack, hack. "Check your floor board, I stepped in dog poop." "It doesn't smell like poop." "Okay, I think my shoes are mainly dirty now, I think I got most of it cleaned up." I have this friend - and she has me. It's a weird combination - well, we're a weird combination - and yet we fit. We talk about the same stuff... she loves my ring tones... and she thinks I'm funny. I think she's wonderful. I can't explain what it is that makes me love her so much, and I think she feels the same way about me. "Do you?" "Um-hmm," she responds. She needs to become a hair stylist and have her own salon in the basement of her house, you know, with the chairs and the sinks and all. I told her she could name it after herself and I'd drive the hour to get my hair done there. She agrees, "Oh yeah, when I lived here I would drive home to get my hair done, for sure." We use each other, and we know it. We accept it and expect it but know that we are meeting each others needs when we do it. "Right?" She responds, "Yep." Then she burps. I love her burps. She loves things about me, too, and now I'm laughing that secret laugh that means I won't be more specific. But she knows what I'm talking about. When I had my own apartment she would come over and crash whenever she wanted. She had her own key. She stills has her own key but I don't live there anymore. It was just a pretty key. "It was," she says. If I were to have child, and someday I hope I do, I would want my relationship with that girl, if it was one, to be very similar to this relationship. I know that she sees me as a friend and an aunt, "Anything else?" "My secret lover" she says with a lisp. She's such a dork and then she texts her boyfriend and looks for a new ringtone to buy. "He's at work," she says. Who knew, seven years ago, when I started going to her church that we would find each other? She is, in many ways, my best friend because I know I can tell her anything and I hope she can tell me anything as well. "Right?" "Um-hmm. Yes Ma'am" she says in her Betty Boop voice. "Burp." The key pads on her phone ring out as fast as the keys on this computer and I know there is some stability in the universe while she is here doing her thing and I'm doing mine. We are connected. "Oh, I love that," she says, "from One Tree Hill," and I know exactly what she is talking about. She turned me on to Gavin DeGraw, I turned her on to Amberlin. She tries to get me to listen to Hip Hop and I tell her to shut up. "Sometimes you dance," she reminds me. "Oh yes, sometimes I do. How many summers ago was it now? We danced in the living room." She lets out a rolling chuckle. She turned me on to Rascal Flatts, too. I love them now. We see stupid movies together. Movies that we probably shouldn't see but do anyway and then talk about how bad it was that we saw it and that we won't do that again. "Remember that one summer when you spent all your time at my apartment playing on my computer? Well, it wasn't really playing, was it, it was match making." "Yes, I remember that summer. Remember when you shang-hai'd me into going to the Gorge with you and I griped you out (understatement) because all you had to do was be honest with me and tell me what you wanted?" We both know not to start this game. She is still playing with her phone, I am still typing, and hacking. I suppose I should get to work now, and she has something to go to, I'm sure. "When will I see you again?" "Tomorrow afternoon? Good possibility." "Okay. I'm stopping writing now." Silence. "I'm stopping writing now." She laughs, "I'm trying to think of a good sentence... uhhhh." "I can't write that." I'm coughing too much now and need to go. "I love you." "Love you!" |
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