Meeting Your Best Friend

Submitted by: Snapshot Memories

I met my first best friend in junior high, 8th grade to be exact. I’d spent a year of misery in the enriched program of the 7th grade. I was a pariah and had just one friend, another outcast. I didn’t fit in because I was just too emotionally immature. The other kids made fun of me and I crumpled. By the end of the year, I was begging to get out of the enriched program and back on the regular track.

That was where I met my first best friend. She was already hanging out with a sweet but terribly insecure girl and the three of us became fast and true friends. Having a friend makes life bearable in school. We laughed together, gossiped together, shared our notes and our dreams and our resentments of authority and parents.

When we were in junior high, anything could give us the giggles and I’d laugh so hard I’d collapse against a locker, practically in tears. Other people would look at us like we had six heads but I didn’t care–I had friends now. My friend’s parents had emigrated to this country after escaping the Communist regime in eastern Europe; I told my friend all about my family.

We shared a few adventures together, one day “breaking out” of school right after lunch and heading for downtown. We did nothing that day but walk around talking. It was better than being in school!

I wish I could say that I’m still best friends with her but we drifted apart a few years after high school. I lost touch with her until very recently. Two years ago, I got her email from our class reunion organizer and I wrote to her. She wrote back, very excited to hear from me but said she had to go out of the country for a few weeks. She said she’d write me back but she never did. I tried to email her once or twice but never got an answer back.

Oh well…I get it. Sometimes you just can’t go back to the way it used to be.

Here is my first best friend with another classmate. We went back to visit our old teachers at junior high one day. I took the picture.

 

Submitted by: greatfullivin

After much consideration I have chosen to reveal the meeting of a best friend. I say “a” because through out my life I have had a few. I had one as a very little girl. I cried and cried when at 10 years old we moved 400 miles away. I met another at my first full time job. Another when I owned a retail store. Still another while managing a retail. Finally, my neighbor who after six years in the backwoods together, qualifies. I still maintain every one of these friendships even the one I had as a little girl. The one I choose to write about is the one who accompanied me all through school and well into adulthood…

It was a long and forboding summer. There was a massive flood in our county and all of the kids from nearby towns were to be bused in to our school. It had been hard enough to make friends. I had tried for the last two years. I had made a few but not with any sort of grand connection. I thought this to be a strange little town. People were not very accepting if you hadn’t been born here, and I hadn’t been. This year was going to be worse, so many more kids. It seemed to this city girl that they were all related. Everybody knew everybody else, except me. I just hated the thought of school getting ready to start. My Mother had taken me shopping and I had a wonderful wardrobe. We had even ordered from the Sears catalog. I had Ink pens and pencils and brand new writing tablets. I was set. Yet I lay on my bed with the window open, listening to the sounds of the world going by and dredding that first day.

School started precisely at 7:40. There were not enough rooms to house all the students so there were two “home” rooms located in the auditorium. Wouldn’t you know it, that is where I ended up. It was kind of like twice the people even though we were at opposite ends of that auditorium. Now I have never been shy or even quiet for that matter, so I wasn’t afraid of all the new kids. I just did not understand why it was so hard to make friends, why I didn’t fit in. It made me uncomfortable. It never occured to me that anyone else felt that way….ever. I don’t remember how many kids in my class I had known from the year before but it didn’t seem like many. We had to sit in alphabetical order so the teachers could learn our names. Arnholt, Baird, Baker, Barnes, Bower. That was it for me. I was the Baird she was the Bower. We met the second day. It wasn’t an unusual meeting really, much like any other kid meets kid in school except there it was… that Grand Connection! I thought she was just about the prettiest girl in our whole jr. high. We were so much alike! We wore exactly the same size. We both had long blonde hair. As we continued all through school together we were known as the “bobsy twins”. It was always Baird and Bower. The teachers made many exceptions to keep us together. We shared everything. We put makeup on for the first time together. We shared all of our clothes. We spent almost every weekend together. We had our first boyfriends at the same time. We drank our first beers together. Went to our first school dance together. We shared our first ride in a car with boys. Football games and basketball games and the time we ran away from home. We have shared every major moment in life, either in person or on the phone. We used to pray for our girls to find a friendship like ours.

This has always been an unbelivable friendship. We had a code for writing notes in school and once a few years ago I sent her a card using little footprints as the signature, she knew immediately who it was from, her husband couldn’t believe it. As we grew into adulthood so did our friendship. We stopped talking on the phone everyday, stopped seeing each other every weekend and we allowed our lives to happen. She raised three beautiful daughters, one that was named for me. I have one daughter who is named Mindy….Mo and Cindy=Mindy, that was in 1973 before the tv program Mork and Mindy. We thought we had just made it up.

Our lives have taken different paths at times. Oh the stories I could tell. We sometimes haven’t spoken for over a year at a time. Yet this person is the reason I understand what true friendship is. It is about always being there. Dropping everything when you need to. It’s about undying loyalty. Sympathy, Empathy, Love and Support. Keeping that Secret. Holding that Hand. Helping wherever and whenever. It’s about listening. And hearing. It’s about understanding and forgiveness. All of my other “best friends” owe her a debt of gratitude, as she has taught me the meaning of friendship.
We survived the birth of our children our marriages and divorces our remarriages. We have buried our Fathers together and look after our Mothers. Years ago I sold some land to her and her husband. It was the property next to my parents, and in exchange I asked, (as she is a nurse) if they would watch over my parents when I was away. I was in Illinois the day my Father died. She was there. She went with my Mother to the hospital and then stayed with her until I got there the next day. She spent the night with my Mom, she would not leave until I got there. What do you say to someone like that…I Love You, but it doesn’t cover it.

I talked to her last Saturday as she celebrated yet another birthday…her request….39 candles. In 40 years we have never lost sight of our lifelong committment to each other. So my Slice of Life is not so much about the meeting but more about the meaning. I love you, my friend.

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Submitted by: Mind of a Goddess

The year was 2000. I was new to the internet scene, particularly AOL and all of its features, including Love@AOL. This was before they started charging for it, before they turned it into an actual dating service. At the time, it was simply personals.

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Submitted by: My Name is Danielle

“A husband is a guy who tells you when you’ve got on too much lipstick and helps you with your girdle when your hips stick.”

~Ogden Nash ~

Picture if you will a small country and western tavern somewhere east of the Mississippi, a girl crying her heart out over a client that had died and a boy learning to line dance in a Pink Izod shirt, khaki Docker shorts and boat shoes. My first inclination would be to question…which one of these things doesn’t look like the other???? Funny how you end up somewhere you never pictured yourself and it sets you on a journey that will change your life forever.

That was the beginning of how a girl who was a little bit country met a boy who was a whole lotta rock and roll. He made her laugh in the midst of her tears. He gave her hope in the darkness. And still does.

However, not only is a husband the one who tells you when you’ve got on too much lipstick and helps you with your girdle when your hips stick, but so does your best friend. Allow me to introduce you to mine.

I met this wonderful person in Biology 101. The professor was trying to enlighten our young minds about when life began, In between yawns she slipped me a note stating “Life begins after college.”…and so the years of laughter began.

As with any marriage friendship, we have had our ups and downs and our sideways with various circumstances in our respective lives. When I felt that everyone else was wrong, she would tell me I was right. When I felt that that everyone else was right, she would tell me I was wrong. When I said I felt ugly, she would tell me I was gorgeous. When I struggled, she would struggle to understand even when she couldn’t. When I stumbled she fell with me so I wouldn’t feel alone. When I celebrated, she celebrated double triple. When I hadsecrets she would reply “What secrets?”. When I thought too much of myself, sehe would say”Hey, remember me?”.

Yes, I remember, I remember that I never had a best friend until her. I remember that I never shared myself with anyone until her. I remember that it’s not always about me, because she knows she can remind me so I will remember.

We haven’t lived near each other in almost two decades, but we are only a breath away. And although she wouldn’t let me go to a party with too much lipstick on, she would make sure I went to the party.

I think a lot about my best friend. We are experiencing a ‘down’ in our friendship at present. We have grown apart through time and distance and different life experiences. It has been difficult, for me, to find common ground. This has been hard for my friend to understand. Perhaps this is where age difference plays a part. I am uncertain. What I am certain of is that she is still my BFF.

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Submitted by: Betty’s This and That

I didn’t meet the very best friend I have ever had in my entire life until around September of 1999. Her name is Frances, and I met her online. I put an ad in the pen pal section of AOL looking for someone to walk with me inside our local mall. Frances answered that ad. We exchanged telephone numbers. I called her, and we ended up talking on the phone for about an hour. She was scared to death to meet me. She was afraid I was an ax murderer, lol. So, she agreed to meet me at our local mall, but she brought her 6′4″ husband along with her for protection, and he followed us all around the mall. We laughted about that a lot after that initial meeting.

Frances had lung cancer, and the doctor wanted her to walk in a controlled temperature enviroment. That’s why she went online looking for the same thing as me. Before she answered the ad, she told some of her family that it would be her luck that I lived across town. Turned out we lived within five miles of each other.

As it happened, Frances and I had a lot in common. One thing that was very unusual of two people who met online was that we both had relatives buried out in the country in another county. Her Dad was buried about a mile from where my Mom and Dad are buried. Her maiden name was Smotherman. My Dad’s mother was a Smotherman. She had her brother do a family tree search, and would you believe we are distant cousins? We even favored each other a little.

This story does not have a happy ending. Frances had her lung cancer return, and she died about four years ago, year 2003 I believe it was. I was out of State when she died, so I was not even able to be by her side when she passed. I did get home in time to attend the funeral.

I still miss Frances.

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Submitted by: The Journals of the Meandering Muse

Meeting My Best Friend

I don’t have a best friend. I have quite a few best friends, those friends that I think of more as family than friend. These are the friends I count on in times of happiness, who are there to share the joy and the good parts of life with laughter and celebration. The friends that I want to be with when the good things are happening in their lives. I want to share in their triumphs and in their feel good moments. These same friends are fully present during the difficult times, the down times and the crisis points in life. They come without asking, without waiting for invitation. They read the writing on the wall and they respond without thinking, they respond from their heart. They allow me to accept and they allow me to give.

When I was a child, I met my first best friend simply because she walked down the street, walked up the stairs to my porch and leaning over the childproof gate (we would have been age 3) said, “you wanna be my friend?” and it was as simple as that. I had no idea what a friend was but it sounded like a good thing to be.

At the same time, I had another friend who was a best friend for different reasons. And I learned at a very young age that limiting myself to one and only one best friend was to deprive myself of the joy and the wonder of having many best friends. Each person is unique and each friendship is special for different reasons, for all the individual aspects of the personality and what is brought to the friendship.

I would become clearly annoyed with these childhood friends when they would, in a group situation, ask me to choose which of them was my best friend. As if this was a contest or an “I’m better than you are” situation. I refused to play. I would never be drawn into that argument or that choice. And rather than go through the agony, I would go home, telling them that when they had decided it was no longer important to them, they knew where to find me. They always came to find me.

What strikes me now is that for all their need to know which of them was my best friend, I never asked, and never have of any friends since, if they considered me their best friend.

Submitted by: Scrappy and Happy

Part I.

 Picture a young, beautiful woman just 23 years of age. Having left a bad marriage and moving out of state she finds herself managing the breakfast shift of a fast food restaurant.

Being accustomed to working long hours, she was not surprised when her boss approached her with a proposition. “Our supervisor has mandated that we now have a hostess during lunch hours to refill drinks and assist the customers in any way. He wants to make things a little cozier. Since you are my prettiest girl, I’d like that hostess to be you.” Flattery got him every where and she eagerly took on the new responsibility.

Every morning when she opened the restaurant for breakfast, she was sure to have a fresh urn full of sweetened tea ready for the fellows who demanded it daily. Secretly, she was thrilled to hear things like, “Wow! What are they doing differently? This is delicious!”

Two of the fellows came in every week day for both breakfast and lunch without fail. One was flirty; the other shy with an endearing smile. They loved it when she offered them refills and suggested she use the line, “Coffee, tea, or me?” She declined. Of course, the lemon wedge earrings she wore begged for more comments. She politely informed them that her boyfriend would not approve.

One afternoon, Mr. Flirty Pants asked our young heroine to meet up with him after work and she agreed. However, she regretted her decision within moments. Not having a way to contact him to cancel, she simply did not show up at the designated time and place. Mr. Flirty Pants soon became Mr. Sour Puss and stopped flirting with her.

In due time, her boyfriend opted to move onto greener pastures. One day after work, as she was preparing to walk home, she noticed our above mentioned fellows. Seems they had come in unexpectedly for their afternoon break. Immediately upon seeing her sullen face, they inquired as to the cause. Bravely, she sat down next to Mr. Shy But Smiley and explained. Both of them offered the sweetest condolences and then a surprising thing happened. Mr. Shy But Smiley wondered aloud how a man could let her go. She blushed and lowered her eyes.

Having been once bitten and now twice shy, she immediately put the thought out of her mind deciding he was just being polite. She did, however, walk home on cloud nine.

A few days later, she was surveying the dining room when she noticed that Mr. Shy But Smiling was staring at her. Now, why in the hell did he do that? She stared back…for what seemed like hours. Is it really possible to drown in someone’s eyes? After that day Mr. Shy But Smiley began flirting ferociously and even admitted to having a name. Jeffrey.

Well, Jeffrey and his cohort continued dining at the restaurant regularly and our heroine began to write him off as a harmless flirt. That is until THAT Saturday. Having never seen him in street clothes and only his work uniform, she was pleasantly surprised to see him standing in front of her. That man showed up wearing a white muscle shirt, cargo shorts, sandals, and the most dazzling smile she had ever seen. Now, why in the hell did he do that? She was mesmerized. A black Adonis stood before her. Whew~. How she ever got his food order straight is beyond me. As he collected his order and headed to his car, she found herself straining to not lose sight of him. When his car left the parking lot, she was saddened.

One of her cashiers who had noticed the exchange between the two of them many times before, smiled at her with a knowing smile. Whispering into the cashiers’ ear our heroine then made a shocking confession. The cashier giggled; never had her boss acted in such a brazen manner. Little did she know her boss was just as surprised as she was.

The flirting continued, but now her heart began skipping beats at the very thought of him. Everyone in the place knew they were doing the “sweetheart dance”, you know, everyone loves a lover.

Christmas time approached and Jeffrey had made no move towards pursuing our heroine outside of the workplace and she was getting, shall we say, antsy. Thoughts of him invaded her mind constantly and she secretly hoped he suffered the same. Gathering all of her courage and wearing her best fitting jeans, she “accidentally” ran into him at lunch time on her day off. As he stood to leave, she invited him to the Christmas party she was having. Unknown to him, she had definite plans for him under the mistletoe!

He asked her to stop by his work later so they could talk about it.

She did.

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Submitted by : Jen’s Humble Opinion

I was 4 years old and Sara was 3 years old when we met. It was the first day of Kindergarten and her mother pushed her into the room with her sitting in the stroller. I got to school by taking the ‘big kids’ bus like my big brother.

 She was so shy and wouldn’t get out of the stroller to play. Her mom was talking to the teacher and I went over and said, “Hi, wanna play?” She looked up at her mom and her mom nodded.

We’ve been friends since. I don’t remember much more of the story. What I do know is Sara and I have been through thick and thin together.

 We have been in two fights over the years. Once when we were in grade school we had an argument on the bus on the way home from school. I don’t remember what it was about. We would spend the day together and then talk on the phone after our homework was done every night. That night I kept calling her because I felt so bad and wanted to apologize. I kept getting a busy signal. Those dial phones take forever to dial too! After an hour we finally got a hold of each other, she was calling me at the same time!

 The second fight we had was more like a discussion that we couldn’t agree on. I don’t remember what that was about either. I do know it was through email and we agreed to disagree. After a little more than 30 years of friendship, I think we’re doing pretty good!

 When Sara and I were in our preteen years we made up this game. It was a version of Hide and Seek. We would yell, “READY!” just before we leaped into our hiding spot and the Seeker would run out and try to catch the Hider in their spot.

 Once Sara was the Seeker and she yelled, “READY!” and I leaped behind a desk. It took half a second for her to find me. I complained that we were running out of hiding places and she said, “Once more, I have a good one.”

 So I go around the corner and wait.

 ”READY!” she yells and I come running into the room. I’m frantically looking around and as I turn around, I see legs. Upside down legs behind a big chair. I started laughing and I hear her laughing. I climb onto this big chair and look behind it and there is Sara. She dove in head first into the corner and she was stuck. I mean really stuck upside down. I was laughing hysterically. She is trying to explain that it isn’t funny and to help her get out. I’m trying so hard to pull this heavy chair across the rug and catch my breath from laughing at the same time. She’s trying hard not to laugh because breathing was difficult. We finally got her out of there.

 She sat on the floor with her face all red and out of breath. I can’t recall a day that we’ve laughed as hard as that.

 

We still email each other and try our darnest to find time to talk on the phone. Here is a picture of us when we thought we were so cool. I can’t get over our hair! Sara is the girl with the black hair and the wave and I’m the poodle.

As the years went by, she never aged. She just got better looking. It’s just not fair!

We didn’t miss each other’s weddings. I found this picture recently and emailed it to her. It looks like we’re getting married to each other. I’m the man!

She took time from her busy day for just the two of us to sneak out into a quiet room and snap this picture.

Sara is a career woman. She’s a high school art teacher. I don’t know how she is surviving her hectic schedule. Sara and her Hubby don’t have children but they do have lots of love. She has been through many difficult times as have I. We live completely different lives. She’s career driven and I’m a stay at home mom. She’s a pianist and an artist. I’m really good at washing floors and doing the dishes. She is graceful and intelligent. I’m clumsy and let’s face it, not that bright. She always got straight A’s and I always got straight C’s. We never did have much in common growing up. Her friends were the popular crowd in grade school and I was the under dog. We both enjoyed cross country running. That’s about it.
On the surface you would never know we were best friends. If you dig deep enough, you would see a love that has been forged over the years through trials and triumphs.
I share with her everything I can and she does the same for me. This last couple of years have been difficult for the two of us. She lost one of her children in her school and one at home. I won’t get into detail because I don’t want to share what she doesn’t want me too. I will say that her child at home came in cat form. Rocky wasn’t a pet, he was family. When Sara lost Rocky I wish I was there for her more. Sara has saved two more cats from the shelter but they are just cats. Rocky was different. He was special and very loved by her and her husband.
Sara is brave. She might be afraid to try something new and different but she does try it. Sara is sensitive, she has cried with me and for me. Sara is hopeful, she tries hard to see the positive in everything. Sara is talented, still a little shy, giving, and loving.
Sara and I have been through deaths, marriages, happiness and extreme sadness. We have shared our woes and our triumphs and it all started on the first day of Kindergarten.
We are more than best friends. We are sisters.
I love you Sara! xoxo
READY!!

Out of boredom one night, B and I decided to make profiles, just to see if anyone was out there that deserved a little bit of our attention. I received a few responses, made a few dates, and prepared myself for meeting my ‘online’ friends face-to-face.

One of the guys turned out to be an ok person, but he was looking for something completely physical. I had just gotten out of one of those ‘relationships’ and was not ready to start another one any time soon. Another one of the guys took me out to dinner at Subway and then to play mini golf. He didn’t get another date, although we did make out on the beach, mostly because I was horny and he was sort of cute.

Then, there was him. From the first night of chatting, he stood out as someone who I could see myself hanging out with, maybe dating. His level of vocabulary was high above any of the usual suspects and his sense of humor as twisted as mine. We decided to meet, to watch the sunset from his sailboat, and maybe grab a bite to eat afterwards. Dinner was not meant to be that night.

From the moment we shook hands, there was a spark, pure electricity jumping back and forth between us. It was exciting and scary, but I didn’t turn back. In fact, I spent the entire night on the pointy end of that boat with him. We watched the sunset, the moon rise, the stars come out. We talked about everything and nothing, each of us finishing each other’s thoughts, taking a break only to look at the clouds and the islands they made in the sky.

It rained. It poured, actually. We moved to the cabin of the boat, where the talking, the laughter, the understanding, continued. This lasted until I realized that I had far exceeded the time I had intended to spend there with him. I had work the next morning. I explained this to him and he offered to walk me to my car. He had work, too, except his was 500 miles away, and he would be gone for two weeks.

We said good-bye. And we hugged. We said good-bye again. And we kissed. And we kissed some more. We kissed until the sky turned from black to pink, at which point the rain started again. From pink to orange, our good-byes would not be deterred.  

I wrote my number on the only paper available, a $20 bill from his wallet. He promised to call. I promised to still be single when he came home.

I drove away wondering when, not if, I would get the first phone call. This was something. Something strange and new and wonderful and different and scary and amazing.

He called three times during the two weeks he was gone. We went to lunch the first day he was home. And giving him that first of many ‘welcome home’ hugs, I knew that he was no ordinary guy, that this would be no ordinary relationship.

Eight years later, we are married with two cats. He is truly my best friend in every way those two words can be conveyed. The $20 bill is framed on our bedroom wall, with ‘I have fallen in love with you. It is as simple and as complicated as that’ written above it. That pretty much sums it up.