Dear Frank...
I like my friends. I miss them. They are funny, smart, idiotic, adore me, call me an asshole, are reliable, live a million miles away (now), get my humor, consider my neuroses a lovable imperfection and I want them to all live on my street.
I get on the phone with them and real life becomes a movie we just watched. We get to deconstruct the scene, the outfits, the dialogue. We laugh about the comedy of horrors that is our collective life, i.e. as not-so-young adults hanging onto our youth still trying to keep our street cred.
I think it's great that I get to live vicariously through the lives of my girlfriends in young dating relationships- I get so excited about the chase and the newness and the promise of big things. I also hang up with the urge to hug Nico choke-hold style cause I'm thrilled I'm done with all that noise.
It's highly entertaining to recount my dumbass moves at work or out in public with them because they make fun of me in a way that I find acceptable and, quite frankly, hilarious. They've endured the partially intoxicated side show that was my early twenties and they find those memories warm and fuzzy. Some of them even have husbands that pull the same mongoloid maneuvers that Nico pulls and I have to say, it eases the sting.
They are just perfect little dolls that will think the Sparta was located in New Jersey, shave with the cover on, sing The Little Mermaid at a bar in Southie, get as much enjoyment out of the F word as I do, grind up on a BMW, and allow me to dictate the interior decor of their new home.
Sometimes I just prefer to communicate using only movie quotes and they get that.
They knew Nico was the man for me the second they met him (when he started hanging out with us in the beginning with perpetual black eyes) and they are aunties and uncles to Miss V. Our husbands are all five minutes away from building their own tree house and all our babies are practically cousins. We are all so fortunate to be this close.
I like my friends. They, along with Nico, are the family I was able to choose. I have always had an eye for the finer things in life.
I get on the phone with them and real life becomes a movie we just watched. We get to deconstruct the scene, the outfits, the dialogue. We laugh about the comedy of horrors that is our collective life, i.e. as not-so-young adults hanging onto our youth still trying to keep our street cred.
I think it's great that I get to live vicariously through the lives of my girlfriends in young dating relationships- I get so excited about the chase and the newness and the promise of big things. I also hang up with the urge to hug Nico choke-hold style cause I'm thrilled I'm done with all that noise.
It's highly entertaining to recount my dumbass moves at work or out in public with them because they make fun of me in a way that I find acceptable and, quite frankly, hilarious. They've endured the partially intoxicated side show that was my early twenties and they find those memories warm and fuzzy. Some of them even have husbands that pull the same mongoloid maneuvers that Nico pulls and I have to say, it eases the sting.
They are just perfect little dolls that will think the Sparta was located in New Jersey, shave with the cover on, sing The Little Mermaid at a bar in Southie, get as much enjoyment out of the F word as I do, grind up on a BMW, and allow me to dictate the interior decor of their new home.
Sometimes I just prefer to communicate using only movie quotes and they get that.
They knew Nico was the man for me the second they met him (when he started hanging out with us in the beginning with perpetual black eyes) and they are aunties and uncles to Miss V. Our husbands are all five minutes away from building their own tree house and all our babies are practically cousins. We are all so fortunate to be this close.
I like my friends. They, along with Nico, are the family I was able to choose. I have always had an eye for the finer things in life.
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