Since the aforementioned company staying at my house was an old friend, and I hadn’t seen her properly in years (I went to her wedding, but have you been to one of those things? They’re insane. Nobody gets to talk to the bride, except the groom, and even then he has to say some very specific things.)
So. This friend – I’ll call her Snazzy – is one of my Click Friends. This is a term I just made up for a friend with whom you have an instant connection upon meeting. I actually ONLY have Click Friends, because I’m lazy and don’t like to put in anything which could be considered effort, so if someone doesn’t work for me right away I don’t bother. (People who are my friends, you can assume you’re worth a fair bit to me and I probably think very highly of you.)
Snazzy was a click friend. We met through our man-friends very early on in our respective relationships, so I can track our friendship along the same timelines as my relationship (around five years). My friendship with Snazzy went like this:
1. Meet briefly at random Geology conference. Random for me; Snazzy is a geologist and thinks rocks are SUPERFUN.
2. See photo of Snazzy in local newspaper where she is flying through mid-air, about to check someone else during a hockey game. Think to self: Snazzy is hardcore. Decide to keep her. (Snazzy is, at this point, probably blissfully unaware of me.)
3. Find self surrounded by new-boyfriends’ friends in restaurant made of picnic tables. Make half-assed attempt at loud conversation. Fail miserably. Snazzy is too far away.
– One Year Passes –
4. Go to wedding of yet another friend-of-boyfriend. (Do you all just turn 30 and decide to get married at the same time? Because it’s hell on my shoes.) See Snazzy! Rekindle love of Snazzy. At this point, have spent a grand total of maybe two hours with her.
– One Year Passes –
5. Snazzy phones me out of the blue. (Men must have traded phone numbers?) She’s going to Miami for an old friend’s baby shower. Do I want to go? Check calendar. Have nothing to do except shitty, hateful job. Take two weeks off work. Leave for Miami six days after phone call.
6. Meet Snazzy in Miami. Wonderful fun times ensue (in Florida! Who knew?) Snazzy turns out to be a perfect travel buddy for me, as she is also notoriously clumsy and late for airplanes. My awesome heels get the shit kicked out of them. Both of our names get called on the PA system when we leave Florida in the ‘Final boarding call for…’ style.
– One Year Passes –
7. See Snazzy at another wedding. (Seriously.) Share house. Fun times ensue.
– One Year Passes –
8. Snazzy gets married in Newfoundland and is busy getting hitched so I don’t see her for more than a few minutes. I understand, and am happy because she is SHINING with love for her new husband. It’s beautiful. I cry a little, but pretend to have mosquitoes in my eyes.
9. Snazzy, now married for seven months, comes to my hometown for Canadian Ranger Training. (WHY, SNAZZY, WHY?) She comes to my house for three days. We talk about nothing, eat, go to the beach, eat, and talk about everything.
10. Snazzy goes home, but I am reconnected and refreshed with my new/old friend.
So, she’s a click friend. (Yeah, I’ll stop writing in that annoying Bridget-Jones’-Diary style now.) I’ll be lucky to see her before 2015, but it will be just as if she’d never left.
However! The Manject specifically says: “So your task today is to make like men of old and reconnect with a friend, either by letter, phone, or email. Wild dogs shall be released upon any man who attempts to complete this task via Twitter.”
In that vein, I have also written a letter to my oldest friend. I’ve known her since we played Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles at recess in second grade. She introduced me to Star Trek. She’s grown into a phenomenal, fascinating woman, and in honour of the old days, I’m going to write her a letter.
I think I’ll stop short of taping songs off the radio for her, though. The DJ always cuts in on the last few notes . . .
Back on track, guys. Tomorrow is Day 8: Start a Journal.