Wednesdays

Making friends is hard. In general. At least past the first grade when everything could be based on a preference of dinosaurs over astronauts or My Little Pony versus American Girl. Now, we can't even gender stereotype when we just fucking want somebody to hang out with.

What the hell, America?

I was out to drinks with a "friend" recently. I say "friend" because here's how our conversation went:

Me: I mean, you're my best friend, so you know...
Him: Wait, what?
Me: You understand what I mean because you're my best friend.
Him: Wait...we're not best friends...

I said those exact words in 4th grade to a girl who stole my swing at recess, but somehow I thought 24 would be easier. Instead of pushing him off his barstool, I paid for the drinks and left.

I was a part of an interesting group of characters in college called Wednesdays. Contrary to popular belief, we did not name ourselves. We became a clique shortly after a group of kids who photographed a fake GAP campaign pointed out that we were always drinking together on Wednesday nights (sans puffy vests and striped scarves). Clearly, we were the weird ones.

Three years later, we found ourselves in Chicken Soup for the College Soul: I Couldn't Adjust to College so I Wrote a Mean Story About Kids Who Tried to Include Me but I Decided I Was Better Than Them.

That bitch will never live it down. Her story painted us (through misguided metaphors) as a judgmental group of superficial friends who binge drank and gossiped about people we thought were beneath us.

In reality, we were losers and we knew it. At least that's what our subconscious told us. But when we were together, shoved into a dorm room on the 5th floor sneaking vodka into vending machine V8s, we were the fucking coolest. We were best friends.

I wouldn't have made it through college if it weren't for Wednesdays.

Living in a city of 8.3million people can be lonely, especially if you're just finding out your friends had a different take on your relationship. I was feeling pretty down about it until this morning when I woke up to a string of messages from Wednesdays on a Friday.

All of them single, spiking their coffee, celebrating Valentine's Day the only way we know how.

By being the fucking coolest.

I haven't seen any of them in months, but there isn't a single week that goes by without a Wednesday.

So to you, my best friends. If you're reading, I say: FOUR OUT OF FIVE OF US LIVE IN THE SAME CITY, HOLY HELL, ARE YOU ALL HANGING OUT WITHOUT ME, YOU STUPID BITCHES?!

Once a Wednesday,

TJB: Making It