I mentioned earlier this week that I had some of my new friends over this weekend. This morning as I was driving to work, I got to thinking about the last guest to leave my house, and how it is that we came to be friends.
It’s a pretty good story, actually. I was reading an article on Jezebel about making friends in a post-collegiate world and left a comment saying that I’d been blogging about this very topic after moving to Chicago. Another reader responded to my comment, explaining that she too had moved recently to Chicago, and she felt my pain. I’d never picked up a friend in the comments section of a website, but I figured they call it “community” for a reason, right?
I wrote her a message through the site. Something about “this is awkward, but how do you feel about a girl-date? The friend kind, that is.” I like to think my message was a tad more eloquent or witty, though I can’t seem to remember my Jezebel username or password in order to actually confirm any eloquence or wit.
A little over a month later—I think it was closer to two—I got an email. She hadn’t logged into her Jezebel account, she’d been away, so it took her a while. No biggie. Hers was a clever and funny email that acknowledged the awkwardness while still being inviting. So we decided to get a drink, which turned into a wine flight. Our dinner lasted almost 3 hours. A good sign.
We exchanged “we should do it again!” emails. And then we didn’t see each other for a month and a half. Not because we didn’t have fun or get along, just because it was summer and we were both busy and got lazy. Eventually she emailed me again and we made brunch plans. At which time she mentioned she loved to cook, and was totally up for any kind of getting-out-of-the-house activity, so I invited her to join my cooking club.
That was October, and we’ve seen each other at least once a month since. I share this story because it’s random and it’s real. I didn’t anticipate hanging out into the wee hours of a Sunday morning when I “approached” this gal online. But then there we were, giggling like schoolgirls at stories of other people acting like schoolgirls.
Apparently this is how friendships happen. Who knew?