Today I’m supposed to write a tale about my best friend. I have many tales. Many of them involve drama, intoxication, and roaring laughter.
I met my bestie over a fax machine in 1998. (I have to take pause now, because I’m laughing at the sentence — who does that?!)
But yes, we met over a fax machine. I was a teenager fresh out of highschool working at the busiest McDonalds in Canada (pop quiz) and he worked at another location. My friend was faxing his friend flirtatiously…then eventually, we all started getting involved in the faxing fun times. I remember receiving a drawing of this cute little bear with hearts. It was pretty darn cute. I was convinced the entire time that I was trading cutesy images with a fellow teenage girl. WRONG.
We met several weeks later and he ran away scared. He was a couple of years younger — and when you’re a teen, that’s a lifetime and a half. But the shyness broke and we all started hanging out…and the rest is history.
No, the rest is actually a little crazy at times (good crazy and bad crazy). Turbulence. Fights amongst our circle of friends. Beginnings and endings. Huge blowouts. Times when we didn’t consider each other friends at all. When I was in my late teens/early 20s, I didn’t know how to be wrong, or how to listen, or how to forgive. I didn’t know what I needed to feel loved or how to love.
There were a lot of outside factors, but basically…my best friend has seen me at my very worst. Over the years, he has learned my limits. He knows, like no one else, when to tell me to STFU and, alternately, when he needs to STFU and let me release my verbose emotions. Because of that, in many ways, he is my sanity. We’ve been through so much madness, and goodness, that nothing (in my opinion) is beyond forgiveness; because my life is better with him in it.
Gosh, I like growing older and minutely wiser. I would never wish to repeat my teenage years…or my early 20s for that matter.