Because it’s Love Friday (in CrankMama Land) and because I skipped lean and fit to be chubby & drunk, I’d like to share with you an ode of love to my pallee Michelle.
Michelle and I were roommates in college — Whitman College — Walla Walla, WA — the city so nice they named it twice. I first laid eyes on Michelle that first horrid freshman week when I realized that folks WEREN’T just as excited about Plato as I and that in fact they were mainly thrilled about college because they got to get laid and drink all they wanted without the ‘rents giving them crap about it.
Oh, the places your despair will take you! Anyway, there was wee Michelle weeping away (sobbing garblingly away) over her homesickness and I immediately thought "My PEOPLE! My PEOPLE!"
Michelle and I were probably the only 2 virgins on our floor…. virgins with crazy parents who liked the drink… and also only girls in families FILLED to the brim with boys. How can one truly describe the joy of discovering a kindred spirit in the midst of angst ridden late-teendom? Suffice it to say it was succor to my sad disappointed heart when Michelle declared on our first trip back home that college "wasn’t all she thought it would be."
We managed, she and I, through our Monopoly drinking games and tanning excursions to hidden greens around campus, to eventually thoroughly enjoy Freshman year AND to lose our collective virginity.
How to describe that first conversation following The Act ("and THEN what did he do?" "EWWWW!" "Ohhh, really?"). Now, THAT’S bonding. That’s sisterhood. That first discussion about sex.
Sometimes in my granite countered kitchen & the careful morning light I miss those days of candid discussion and lurid giggling fun. But Michelle and I still have our fun and share our funny stories (less vulva, more Volvo)…
Love to you, Michelle. I’m so glad you’re in my life!
And share, share, folks! Who are the friends who saw you through? Or who see you through now?