Reality sucks when your best friend lives a thousand miles away.

               Ever since I was but a wee child, I have been terrible at making and keeping friends. This being said, I have, however, always had a best friend. It’s not my fault that 90% of them went bat shit crazy and now have multiple children and have left me and my beagle in the dust. When I was young I was able to keep friends by allowing them to cut off my curly blonde locks and gluing them to their Barbie dolls. Looking back, that plan was phenomenal, but I just don’t see anyone taking a half bald college student with five-year-old “best friends” seriously. 

                Before I hurt any feelings, I should report that I currently have a best friend, Ashley. Like most well developed relationships, Ashley and I bonded over our hatred for pleather, high school, oversized jewelry, clogs, and driving past semi-trucks. We have shared many great memories together including the time we almost, kind of, not really, ran over and potentially, hopefully not, killed a man-eating beast…or dog. To be honest, she is the best friend I have ever had and has not once judged me on my love of/addiction to TV.

                Six months ago, I packed up my Ford Focus and moved to North West Indiana. One thousand miles away from home, I have never needed my best friend more. Sure, she is only a phone call away, but I feel as though we can’t form those same awkward memories we once were so easily able to obtain. You can’t accidently squirt taco sauce on the ceiling of your best friend’s parent’s bedroom through a cell phone conversation. To be blunt, she is the shit and reality sucks when your best friend lives a thousand miles away. 

This is because we can.