Crap I'm going to cry.
Ally.
Where do I even start?
We met last year in a crappy little residence hall. This one, in fact. The asbestos? The 1950's carpet? Yea boy.
Honestly, we didn't click right away. She was wrapped up in her long distance boyfriend and the scariest looking roommate I've ever met.* I was too wrapped in looking for the label of cool that wore a certain type of band and thrifted clothes. Once and awhile though we'd start talking, and I think that was the redeeming quality: we had awesome conversations. Without the need to impress anyone I could express my real opinions and we found out we had a LOT in common. Both were raised by health freaks** and had similar experiences with boys and beautiful best friends. In the back of my mind I think I recognized this was a valuable connection to keep.
And then this year it clicked.*** In your words, "Why are we friends? Basically because we're the funniest people we know." Yup. That's it. We're hysterical.
This has taken a long time to write. I don't know how to keep track of all the memories.
One time we drove home and got caught in fog so thick we couldn't see the lines on the road. So we gave up and strolled down the highway at a solid 20mph. Rolled down the windows (mid january mind you) and turned up the hot air and the music. Ate cornbread and nearly froze our hands by sticking them out the window. That pretty much describes it.
Al. Who is going to go running with me in the morning even when it's raining? Who is going to show me the best types of organic food? Who is going to quote Megamind and Gilmore Girls with me? Who will NOT go running with me and instead bake a cake with two pounds of sugar in the frosting? Who else will study biology obsessively with me and crazy dance at those lame institute socials?
I like your house because it's actually a house. A home. Not quite my pair of clean socks, but a dryer for the old ones at least. I can come over and see a real pantry stocked with actual cooking ingredients. We make real meals and I can play the piano and talk to your sister and aunt.
Ok I'm stopping here. There's too much to explain and I just can't quite get it right. But I'm coming to visit you in Colorado. And in the fall you better get your butt over to my apartment and visit too.
(I might miss you the most)
*This chick cleaned her nails with knives. True story. She also wore those collars with spikes on them and had random shotgun shells hidden in the room. Which is a feat for a 6 by 12 room.
**Sugar cereals were a dessert and only purchased once a year on my birthday. Honeynut Cheerios were to be mixed with regular Cheerios. I kid you not.
***How much does this sound like a weirdo romance I should be telling to my children about my hubsand? Too much.
Honestly, we didn't click right away. She was wrapped up in her long distance boyfriend and the scariest looking roommate I've ever met.* I was too wrapped in looking for the label of cool that wore a certain type of band and thrifted clothes. Once and awhile though we'd start talking, and I think that was the redeeming quality: we had awesome conversations. Without the need to impress anyone I could express my real opinions and we found out we had a LOT in common. Both were raised by health freaks** and had similar experiences with boys and beautiful best friends. In the back of my mind I think I recognized this was a valuable connection to keep.
And then this year it clicked.*** In your words, "Why are we friends? Basically because we're the funniest people we know." Yup. That's it. We're hysterical.
This has taken a long time to write. I don't know how to keep track of all the memories.
One time we drove home and got caught in fog so thick we couldn't see the lines on the road. So we gave up and strolled down the highway at a solid 20mph. Rolled down the windows (mid january mind you) and turned up the hot air and the music. Ate cornbread and nearly froze our hands by sticking them out the window. That pretty much describes it.
Al. Who is going to go running with me in the morning even when it's raining? Who is going to show me the best types of organic food? Who is going to quote Megamind and Gilmore Girls with me? Who will NOT go running with me and instead bake a cake with two pounds of sugar in the frosting? Who else will study biology obsessively with me and crazy dance at those lame institute socials?
I like your house because it's actually a house. A home. Not quite my pair of clean socks, but a dryer for the old ones at least. I can come over and see a real pantry stocked with actual cooking ingredients. We make real meals and I can play the piano and talk to your sister and aunt.
Ok I'm stopping here. There's too much to explain and I just can't quite get it right. But I'm coming to visit you in Colorado. And in the fall you better get your butt over to my apartment and visit too.
(I might miss you the most)
*This chick cleaned her nails with knives. True story. She also wore those collars with spikes on them and had random shotgun shells hidden in the room. Which is a feat for a 6 by 12 room.
**Sugar cereals were a dessert and only purchased once a year on my birthday. Honeynut Cheerios were to be mixed with regular Cheerios. I kid you not.
***How much does this sound like a weirdo romance I should be telling to my children about my hubsand? Too much.
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