Now, drunk and Sunday – I usually try to not combine these two. Or at least on a weekly post that is based on the premise of being rather thoughtful. But this week, having just gotten off the phone with my best friend of … a lot of years (will do the math later, don’t judge me), I am telling you this story in the spirit of friendship that will never ever die. And this is why.
I get a text message from my friend Rachel simply saying ‘mayday, mayday’.
I assume she is on some hellish date and needs an out. I wait a few minutes and then call her back. Forget that I only had 4 hours of sleep the night before, that I was getting ready to go to bed with the intent of sexing up my husband. She needed me, so I called.
She answers the phone and the god. mother. fucking. loud. music. shakes. mah damn. phone. No lie.
She escapes the horrific din to the outside saying, “ZOMG, help me, talk to me, whatever. HOW are you, how is Alex, tell me everything.”
I tell her menial details about stupid shit going on. Nothing of consequence. I’m waiting for her to tell me WHAT is going on.
She fesses up. She is at a high school reunion. For a class that is NOT hers and a town that is NOT hers. Picture Jeaneane Garafolo in the town where Footloose took place – THAT would make more sense than what she was describing. The band in the background was named Love Pump and was playing 80s Metal. I laughed so hard I almost peed my pants. Again. Garafolo in the Footloose town.
She mentions a few times that she’s drunk. Well YEAH. You’d have to be. It’s alcohol or a lobotomy.
Anyway. Somehow she got rooked into going to this thing with her sister, BIL, and a few other people, there’s a dude in there who may be part of the reason she was in that situation. But he was there with someone else. Who was FORTY FUCKING NINE years old.
(Note: There is nothing wrong with FORTY NINE. All ya’ll cougars out there who could bench press my ass (yes I’m looking at you Deb Roby) please don’t hate me.)
So she’s feeling like the ultimate SHIT. And just needs OUT. She’s like, um yeah, so come get me RIGHT NOW.
I’m like “Uh,” (looks at skype sees @jenbshaw … hmm….), “I think I could get reinforcements there faster than I could get there.” (8 hour drive for me.)
So I launch into a story about my ill fucking fated class reunion last year. And I open the wine. Because Rachel was tipsy and to tell this story and save her in her time of trial, I was going to need to drink too.
I opened a bottle and began to tell her the story.
Of how I attended my class reunion without a wingman. Of how my ex showed up with some chick. Of how SPARKS were blowing up the air between us. About how I cornered my ex to tell him to KNOCK IT OFF because his girlfriend was going to hate me and kill him – and how he said “OH NO, SHE’S COOL” and 10 minutes later he’s all, “UH, IMMA GONNA GO NOW, I JUST WANT YOU TO KNOW MY GIRLFRIEND HATES YOU AND IS GOING TO KILL ME.”
I told her how I was the ass bitch of the reunion and how if I could take back a whole lot of the trash that came out of my mouth in that 48 hours, I SO WOULD.
I painted her a picture of tragedy.
Of the fact that in FOUR SHORT YEARS I will have to face these people again.
Because, srsly? Some of them are kick ass awesome. And every five years, I get to go back in time and be another age. No deadlines, no snot, no bills. I just get to be Dawn and hang out and shoot the shit and drink some wine.
Just like tonight. Kidlet is asleep. Husband is asleep. I couldn’t pay a bill or do math right now. I CAN uncork a bottle of wine and refill my glass. I can be DAWN. Just me. Rambling on and making an ass of myself to my best friend Rachel, who I have loved since 1992. Who said in the midst of my story – “I will always choose you over, Clint.” (go read the link, peeps, it will make more sense – Clint = Larry the Cable Guy dude.)
Rachel. Who said after my story (and a half a bottle of wine) was over, “This is why you will ALWAYS be mine.”
And really? Isn’t that the most beautiful thing of all?
I mean. She could text me at my bedtime with a mayday message and I would reply. That’s friendship.
She could tell me her pathetic tale of woe. (WHOA! (Joey Lawrence style))
I couple open a bottle of wine, just for her. So we could be together across the miles.
er. uh. imma try that again.
I *COULD* open a bottle of wine, just for her. So we could be together across the miles.
I could tell her a long long LONG ASS story about how I made an ass of myself, just to make her laugh. To make her see that, hey, it ain’t so bad. At least these peeps don’t know you.
All to have her say at the end of it, “This is why you will ALWAYS be mine.”
Seventeen years brings a LOT of history. I almost lost my best friend, once upon a time. She was in that car that was slammed by that drunk kid.
“This is why you will ALWAYS be mine.”
On this late night, influenced by much MUCH wine, I pray for you. In my drunken stupor. I pray for you. May each of you have a friend who will say, “This is why you will ALWAYS be mine.”
And may *I* always be worthy of that.
A. This is why I never go to reuniouns and B. How awsome is it that no matter where you are, or what you do…regardless of time or space…there is always someone there… 8 hours, 8 minutes, 8 days!
I use too many elipses… (see?)
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I. love. you. That is all.
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THIS is why you willl always be mine. Because you know how bad I feel that I made you miss sex. Because you put me first, when I needed that. Becuase you are the best friend anyone could have, anytime, and I got you tonight when I needed you. Without me having to say anyrhing more than “mayday”. And you knew that.m without even having to ask. Thank you. You know I love you more than my luggage.
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I love this – you are damn eloquent even when tipsy.
And the fact that Rachel just quoted Steel Magnolias up there means that I’m pretty sure I’d love her too.
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This was an awesome story. I just got back from my husband’s high school reunion, it was a two evening affair with people who were old enough to be my parents. (My husband is 16yrs older than me!) I had fun though, there was an “open bar”, the appletini & I became quick friends.
I am lucky enough to have a few of those kinds of friends that I too wish that I will always be worthy of.
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AWww. Great story. Sad, maybe, some of it, but great.
(Isn’t Love Pump a Spinal Tap reference?)
But the triumph, of friendship, endurance, and rescuing your sister from the Mayday. THAT is a great story.
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LOVE this post Dawn, even though I’m a little behind on reading it.
EVERYONE should have a friend like you. I’m usually that friend, but not sure that I could pin-point a friend that would do that for me. I really should find new friends.
XOXO
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