I have a good guy friend, we’ll call him Meatball. He’s a stereotypical dago and was best friends with my brother in high school. He actually talks about my brother a lot and every time he’s drunk he always makes it a point to tell me how large my brother’s penis is. I often question his sexuality and spend a lot of time working on my “surprised” face so I can fake being shocked when he tells me his girlfriend broke up with him. He has absolutely horrible taste in movies and seriously contemplated getting a giant bird tattooed on his side. For some strange reason a very tiny part of me loves him and finds him amusing, it may or may not have something to do with the time he got kicked out of the strip club because he felt it was only fair that he show the strippers his nipples too.
I decided to meet my little Meatball out last year for St. Patrick’s Day. Some of his friends showed up, one of which was a girl. We small talked, she wasn’t flashy or dressed in any ridiculous St. Paddy’s Day gear, I was glad I decided to forgo the green tutu I was going to wear. We had a few drinks and decided we’d take a trip to the bathroom. As we were standing in line, one of Cleveland’s finest decided to grab the trash can that came up to her waist, drop trow and pee. The logistics of this were mind boggling and it will come as no surprise that she managed to pee everywhere except for the trash can. She looked at us and told us she didn’t care if we judged her. We laughed and couldn’t help but stare at her as we made our way to the two open stalls.
We met back up with our group and told them what we witnessed. As we turned around the little pissing bandit was standing behind us. The back of her jeans were SOAKED and some clueless drunk guy kept trying to grab her ass and make out with her. We lost it! We were both crying we were laughing so hard. The little pisser saw us laughing at her and then disappeared, I think our judgment was too much for her to handle.
A few weeks went by and I was busy making plans to move out of my apartment. I conquered a year by myself and was ready for more action. I told my co-worker where I wanted to move, he ended up knowing a guy and made it happen. There was only one problem, they didn’t have a one bedroom and I couldn’t afford the two bedroom by myself. I asked anyone and everyone if they knew someone I could live with. Apparently, 30 is an inconvenient time in life to decide you want to be single and need a roommate.
I figured it was a shot in the dark, but I text Meatball and asked if he knew of anyone, he was my last option. He told me the girl I met on St. Patrick’s Day was actually looking for a place to live, she had just gotten divorced and was staying with her parents for the time being. I told Meatball to make it happen. I’d never met another girl that was divorced and I was ecstatic, all of my divorced friends were guys. He text me back a few minutes later and told me she was in and gave me her number.
I went to the leasing office a few days later to fill out the paperwork. I started laughing and picked up my phone to call her.
“So I’m filling out the lease and I need to put your last name. What is it?”
We started cracking up at the sheer ridiculousness of this situation. We knew nothing about each other, but we were oddly enough ok with it. For us, it was a new adventure.
When I was done I met her at the bar so I could take her the other half of the paperwork. We decided we should probably get dinner and talk so we could get to know each other. She already had a Tanqueray and Tonic in front of her and I laughed out loud as I ordered the same thing. It was the only thing I drank and I got made fun of by all of my friends for being the only person to like gin.
We started playing the game of 50 questions and were surprised to find out we really had a lot in common. We both went to Catholic schools, we were both teachers, we both lived in the Carolinas, we both got divorced and we both had a few bottles of gin that we were going to contribute to our new place.
I asked her why she got divorced, I had to know. Her story was like that horrible scene from a movie, she saw him having sex with another woman. She told me she was willing to work it out but he didn’t want to. No part of her wanted to be divorced and my heart dropped. No part of my ex wanted to be divorced and I just walked away. I knew that night after our conversation that we would prove to be an interesting dynamic. She was my absolute proof that Quest Physics was real.
We moved on to talk about our parents and how much they questioned our decision to move in with each other. We laughed, because we knew there was something different about us. Divorce had changed us and we managed to see and start living life a little bit differently. We believed there would be greater rewards in life by taking risks and chances than by playing it safe. There was also something we no longer cared about, and that was people’s opinions. We lived our lives for someone else for so long that now it was time to live for ourselves.
Over the course of a year we have developed a strange bond that most people don’t understand. We have no respect for each other’s privacy and frequently burst in on each other in the shower to discuss some of life’s greatest questions, “Do I text him or does he text me?” We hate being apart and text each other a thousand times if we’re away for an extended period, which is typically about 5 minutes. She makes me try new and strange foods like mussels and beets and I make her learn how to use the different remotes to find the Netflix app on the TV. She makes me go to hipster coffee shops and I make her sit in VIP sections at bars. She makes me listen to country music and I make her go to 90s hip-hop night. She packs my lunch for work and I promised to let her quit her job and fully support her when I’m rich. Although we have our differences and get into our sister type spats, we’re the only ones who know what it’s like to be each other. Even though our experiences with divorce were different, we share some eerie and odd similarities.
We didn’t plan for our lives to be this way, nobody does. But we’ve made the best of it and live life the only way we know how, one day at a time. If this coming year is anything like the last, my mind will be blown. I couldn’t be more thankful for the day I walked into the bar to see Meatball on St. Patrick’s Day.
Happy Anniversary and a very Happy Birthday. 🙂