Friends

1. I have a friend who said if "Friends" were a black show, it would be called "Dawgs."  Wassup, dawg? This is the same friend who subversively invented a writer on the spot to counter the cultish, must-be-in-the-know and must-be-serious mono-ethnic culture of "whiters" in a Creative Writing program. She dramatically rolled lemons across the long workshop table as she began to read a poem about lemons.  Kidded me about an inappropriate and everlastingly embarrassing crush.  Burn me, Kram, burn me.  Other funny fragments of poems I remember: lemon tipped ears, made of your wax a thick brew, my fried pajamas, I'll rock you into, I put the cat back. She would walk through the quad collecting fall leaves listening to Al Green.  I'm so tired of  being alone, I'm so tired of on my own.  Long-armed, hair-netted, cigarette-smoked ladies sizzling up melts and fries and serving them up to drunken stragglers in a 24-hour on-campus diner.  Late-night giggling girls devouring the greasy fare, not caring if they were out of place.  The same friend who knew it was me who wrote that letter to the editor of the campus newspaper about ignorant frat boys in the elevator at the library before she saw my name at the end because of my use of the word "guffaw."  She used to high-five me for using SAT words.  She rebuked the devil in a drawing to cheer me from absurd infatuation: a Spanish professor nearly thrice my age.  Scolded a former suitor, claiming he had "coleslaw stained hands" (on this blog).  Red Lobster Ultimate Feast.  Discarded bowls of stiff Cream of Wheat and strewn sunflower seed shells.  I once gave her some candied sunflower seeds and flavored massage oil (the least scandalous of my offerings) in front of church ladies at her wedding shower.  She one-upped me when my time came, though.  Good.  An age old question, equal parts meta and hilarious: What if there were no hypothetical situations?

2. I have a friend who used to be my husband's Portuguese instructor before I knew he existed.  She was my Portuguese instructor, too, from that class I audited that summer before I got lazy and stopped going.  An English-language-learner story where I laughed myself to tears:  In Brazil, when you order ice cream, the word to use for "scoop" is bola.  So, if you wanted two scoops of ice cream?  Dois bolas.  Well, she learned that words don't always translate directly when she went into Ben and Jerry's and asked for "two balls."  Two literature nerds and frequent tea drinkers on my green couch.  Among many other things, I learned that my uncle looked like a samba singer she used to have a crush on.  Later we drank tea long distance over Skype while we suffered through the academic job market wringer together.  We laugh that we both ended up with dark-haired, introverted, bespectacled husbands.  This city and this program and this 5-year chunk of my life?  She's woven into it.  A refreshing constant.

3. I have a friend who ended up committing his whole life to me.  A shy guy wearing plaid, band tees and hoodies.  Skater punk with freckles and a big heart.  He used to be ashamed of being from a small town, couldn't wait to get out.  But now he's proud of where he's from.  That's what I remember him telling me on our second coffee date.  He asked if I wanted to hear him play open mic downtown.  Hipster coffee bar with a mini-stage.  He plays left-handed, like Jimi Hendrix.  My jaw dropped when I saw this shy guy transform into a passionate powerhouse from the first strum.  I remember a particular week we spent every single day together.  On the last day of that week, we bought guitar tuner batteries from Best Buy and kissed for the first time.  Now, I know he likes the toilet paper roll over instead of under.  Now, I make omelets for him that fall apart, but he doesn't care.  Now, I see glimpses of him as a father.  We still laugh about my response to a certain message he sent me on Facebook being nothing more than a single smiley face.  I didn't want him to think I liked him.