The milk of

The ironies of real life would seem contrived if you wrote them into a short story or a movie.

Last night, I went out with a good friend who’s moved out of town this year, and the bizarre little mirror-actions in the turns in our lives have taken were uncanny.

Above and beyond that jarringness, however, we had the best time. I feel like this is an event that must be reported upon. If it’s boring for you, sorry.

Other people find their fun going dancing or shopping tchotchkes, but for me, it is the way-too-freaking-rare experience of a good, long conversation. A really good conversation. I have kept so few truly close friends as the years have passed, and this is something I mourn, hard. There are so many people I miss, and I think that was probably one of the reasons I started up this blog: If I can’t talk about real things with people on a regular, daily, weekly, monthly basis, at least I can write about them as if I’m having a conversation, right?

My friend proposed that she and I have both found it hard to keep close friends in part because we’re ambitious people who’ve moved around a lot. We’re also both pretty introverted, and have a tendency towards the morose at times, and these things do not make for the Great Big Party every day.

But as we talked, it also became clear that neither of us likes to settle for superficial relationships. I don’t like meeting the same group of people at a bar every week and talking about work, or even politics. Those things are all fine, but they only go so far in the conveying The Real Emotional Exchange, you know? So I tend to bow out some, when Hunter goes out with some big group of people. Sometimes I just end up feeling lonely. Not always, but when my, err, I guess, emotional batteries need a boost, talking about movies is just not gonna truly do it for me.

And I’ve got to add, here that I don’t think of myself as an intimidatingly intense person. When I dated my college boyfriend, we’d have frequent cook-outs at his house in the summertime, and my role at those events was always sort of greeter social butterfly, while he hung out at the grill or in the kitchen. And that was great; it was a lot of fun. Those were really good days. I mean, it was college—and there’s never, ever going to be a time like that again. Insta-friends, all on the same page, right away.

I guess we all just have to find our niche, and I’m not there right now. To anyone reading this who’s feeling the same way, hold on, okay? You’re not alone; there’s nothing wrong with you. With persistence, I believe we all can get there.

And to my Baltimore friend: I drove home last night more content than I’ve felt in ages. More well-rounded, somehow. Thanks.