I’m meeting a dear friend for drinks tomorrow; I see her rarely because she moved to Texas a while back. Now I look forward to our rare get-togethers, where we can catch up and I can tease her about saying things like “y’all” and “restroom”. I also caught up with another old friend this morning, one I hadn’t seen in six years, and it was lovely. Since it seems to be the weekend for meeting long-lost friends, I should mention one I ran into yesterday.
She was my drinking and dancing buddy from my party-girl days, and by party-girl days I am referring to the era in which I would get all tarted up in my tight high-waisted jeans and a bodysuit, fluff up my long, spiral-permed hair, and go out – past nine o’clock – dancing to such hits as “I Like to Move It” and “All That She Wants”, all the while drinking $6 triple vodka slimes. One night this friend drunkenly professed to me romantic feelings about my boyfriend at the time, and in doing so caused a rift that never healed, even after my boyfriend and I broke up.
I hadn’t seen her for twelve years or more, but I had heard that she and my old boyfriend had gotten married, which gave our surprise meeting yesterday a high potential for awkwardness. I did not feel awkward though, I felt, in truth, very glad that they were together. I am extraordinarily happy with my own life. I think everyone deserves a soul mate and while this guy was a good person, he and I were disastrous together. It was a bad relationship. During our break-up I said many unnecessarily cruel things to him. They were true, but cruel. So during our meeting I felt nothing but pleasure that they had found joy and happiness together, and that they have a beautiful young daughter.
Also, my butt is smaller than hers.
That last line? Priceless.