The Friend Dance

*January 2006

I have a real live friend and I’m so excited I could spit. I shouldn’t say she’s my friend yet but I just know she will be.

And it’s so crazy because her office is two doors down from mine and she lives in the same goddamn building as me. We have been probably within 20 feet of each other for the last two months and never ran into each other once until today.

She was just coming out of the laundry room when I was coming home. I’ve never seen another white female in the neighbourhood, never mind the building, so I practically attacked her.

Turns out she works in the French department. Her name’s Mathilde and she’s from France. She doesn’t speak very good English and I don’t speak very good French but we managed to communicate that we definitely need to have a drink together.

This feels as good as the day I found out I got into J-school, as good as seeing the first part of my book, as good as a good first kiss.

When I got into my room I did a little dance and lit my first after-work cigarette and smiled, really smiled, as I blew the smoke out my window. I looked at my little piece of Thailand and knew the rest of my days here were going to be so much better.

I understand now why someone wrote one would choose to live knowing he would never have a lover, but would rather die without a friend. Since I haven’t had either in almost five months (mom, remember I’m 24), I think I have a little authority on the subject.

God loves me after all, and he sent me a belated Christmas gift.

*Mathilde and I did, indeed, become best friends. She recently left to go back to Paris. I miss her dearly and wish her the best.