Sometimes, after struggling to articulate the reasons I am railing and whining against the grain of my life, I have to smile:
I miss a lot of people, and the new people I meet are not the people I miss.
One of my greatest pleasures of life is going out to eat with my friend Meghan. Not only are we both lovers of trying new restaurants and unafraid of exchanging several pretty pennies for excellent cuisine, we also adore each other.
There is nothing more fun than having good food and drink in the company of someone you deeply enjoy, and who deeply enjoys you back (HALLELUJAH).
I look forward to my next dinner-adventure with Meghan like I look forward to my next trip, or to Christmas: time with her is that good. I should start calling her "Christmas."
Last time I was in Seattle we chose a restaurant featuring the Moscow Mule as their "aperitif." It was my first time trying this concoction, and I was decidedly smitten. We kept them coming the entire meal, deciding to pretend we did not speak French at all and that "aperitif" meant, "To drink before, during and after your meal, 4 drinks being traditional." All four of them were delicious, and the drink itself felt wonderfully representative of the perfect, long-awaited magic happening between Meghan and me.
The Moscow Mule is a little bit magic. What is so special about vodka, fresh lime juice, ginger beer and mint? Nothing really. The combination is delicious, duh, but no reason to get breathless or patriotic. However when these same ingredients are placed inside a chilled copper mug, the taste transforms into something new - I'm talking make-up sex, national-anthem good.
What is so hard, really, about making friends? There are people all over the world, and if we break down the list, Making Friends 101 should be an easy A.
Be kind, be open, be yourself... right? It's so SIMPLE. And yet no matter how many times I add the kindness, the vulnerability and the ME to a cup, it is rarely a Moscow Mule.
Friendship requires chemistry. I am not talking about love-at-first-sight, although this sometimes happens (I met one of my best friends at a bar -- she literally met me, kissed me on the mouth, and announced to the bar that she had found her soulmate. She was drunk, but she was right. I have loved her like a sister since that moment). More often the delicate chemistry of friendship occurs over time, influenced by changes in the ingredients or temperature or environment.
The reverse is also possible. Relationships can fizzle out - a friend can forget or stop caring - a drink that was once delicious can turn sour, even toxic.
Meghan sent me a present for my birthday. The package arrived about an hour ago, barely procured from the hands of the speedy, Italian delivery man (they are definitely not paid per delivery in Brussels).
After racing down 10 flights of stairs (the elevator is too slow for times like these) and bursting out the front door I successfully detained him by yelling and waving at his departing car. The driver saw me, got out and began yelling back, angry at me for some reason, that my door buzzer was 'kaput.' He then ensured that I was Charis Brice by pointing to my name on the package and giving me a thumbs-up.
Oh, Belgium.
I rode the elevator back up to my apartment with a huge smile on my face. I had no idea what was inside the box, but saw that it was from Meghan, so the box was already guaranteed "PURE HAPPINESS."
Inside the box there were two copper mugs and hand-written instructions on how to make a Moscow Mule. There was also a note telling me that I am missed, I am missed, I am missed.
I have been openly whiny about making new friends in Europe. It is hard to make friends when your primary emotion is "WHINY, and your nickname, "BITCHFACE" but friends have found me nonetheless (generous souls).
This weekend I had a birthday party where I invited the people I have met over the past year living in Belgium. I felt waves of panic during the day before the party and wondered if I had designed the party specifically to make myself feel lonely - but the waves of panic changed to waves of gratitude throughout the night as I received kindness after kindness from so many of the people present.
I have friends in Seattle and friends in Belgium who love me, and I am so grateful.
Whiny Bitchface is slowly changing to something more palatable; thank god for copper mugs.
Sometimes, after struggling to articulate the reasons I am railing and whining against the grain of my life, I have to smile:
I miss a lot of people, and the new people I meet are not the people I miss.
... but they could be someday.
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