You've got to have friends... well, at least I do.

            If you look at my social media, I look far more popular than I actually am. Sure, I have plenty of Facebook and IG “friends” but those aren’t the people I talk to every day. They aren’t MY people.

            I have a few very close friends, some have known me all my life. Others have only known me a few years. They are the ones I can call any hour of the day or night, complain like a broken record about the same mundane things, lament about one mistake or another, the ones who give me far away high fives over the phone when something lovely or spectacular happens. They know me, and I know them. They happen to all be smart, beautiful, dynamic, kick-ass, loving people. That’s right- all of ‘em. These are my main squeezes- the ones I’d set the world on fire for.

            One of the best people in my life has known me for twenty-four years. I’ll say that again- she has known me for twenty-four years. They say the test of a lifelong friendship is whether it can last longer than seven years. I think she and I have got that handled. Today we live the furthest apart from one another in all our years, (why the land of Mormon? Why so far?!) and I’ve never felt closer to her. I don’t get to hear her voice as often as I would like, but she’s still there. I leave her ridiculous messages on social media and voicemails, and she sends me snail mail because she knows I love it. She speaks to my more tender side, reminding me I don’t have to be all bravado- she knows I have a soft underbelly. She’s also helped me love wine…

            These three come as a package deal. Two sisters and a cousin,  all of whom I met when I was thirteen years old. All three have personalities all their own, yet compliment each other in the best way. I became a part of their family the minute we met, and vice versa. They are like the sisters I never wanted, (har har).  We fight and bicker, we even borrow each others clothes.  My mother has said more than once she wishes I had grown up with sisters- she doesn’t realize I did.  We made mixed tapes together, talked about boys, (and in my case girls) pinky swore each other to secrecy, and snuck out of the house, (remember combat rolling through the bushes? I do!) I’ve watched them raise their kids, and played the role of the crazy aunt. We love each other the unconditional way siblings should, the best part of all being we chose each other.

            I met this gorgeous lass in high school, when we were both still awkward and figuring out who we were. She and I lost touch, then found each other again in our late twenties.  Her fire burns brighter than most, the courageous way she walks in this world is something every one stops and takes notice of. She and I have marched to our own drum beats since we can remember, and yet together we fall into the same rhythm. She reminds me being tame is lame, my mixed background does make me special, and I shouldn’t apologize for who I am.  She also would help me bury the body, and go to jail with me for the crime- the whole time yelling about how the system sucks.

            I bonded with this tall drink of water the very first week of my internship at San Diego State.  Anyone who can pull off being six feet tall, blonde, smart, and have the ability to cuss the way she does earns my respect, (did I mention she’s an identical twin? Oofta). She really has no idea, but she’s one of the main reasons I got through college. Her friendship was what I needed at a time when curve ball after curve ball was thrown my way. Her sense of humor, ability to keep me on task when we needed to study for an exam, and willingness to talk about inappropriateness right in the middle of us learning origins and insertions… Now we can sit around drinking a beer, (or drinking one of her fantastic margaritas) and bs about anything and everything.  Did I mention her grandma is the reason I showed up to my college graduation drunk? Ah well, that’s a story for another time.

            I met my little polly pocket right before I finished up at SDSU.  She talks a mile a minute, drives me absolutely insane, and gives great advice. She fantastic at making me feel special, about taking the time to letting me know she’s thinking of me- all the way from Missouri, (Seriously- Missouri. The middle of no where, in Missouri).  She’s such a girl, and man I love that about her. Have I mentioned while she can talk a mile a minute, when she’s upset she can hit an octave only bats can hear? She’s very passionate about all she does, which also makes her vulnerable. She wants to love and help everyone. She reminds me regularly to pull my head out of my ass, and be more compassionate.

            I’m putting these three together, because they are the three guy friends who have stood the test of time. One is a ninja, another a protégé, and the last a former flame.  I’ve known two of them since college, the other a student of mine who later became a friend. They give me the male perspective on things, don’t pull punches, and give me the encouragement I need when I’m having a full blown chick  moment. Recently one even told me I was being a dick- some thing I think my girls may not want to tell me.  They have explained more than once to me how I’m not like other broads, and I should use it to my advantage. They tell me I look like shit when I cry, but hold me anyway. They check out chicks with me, give me boy advice, and love me the way I am, reminding me the right person will do the same whenever they decide to show the hell up.

            This little southern belle is the cheese to my macaroni. We met four years ago, and since have had a few adventures together. She’s priceless, her back country advice mixed with her Texas twang would enhance anyone’s day.  We’ve bonded over entire days in bed ( separately- get your mind out of the gutter), food that’s terrible for you, how much dating blows, that pants suck, and weird disgusting injuries, (She and I have the same job. What can I say? We think broken bones are fascinating).  I keep trying to convince her to move to California, so we can share a dog named Cooter. Besides all that, she’s a model of professionalism, drive, and how to be a proper lady. The last being a lesson completely lost on me.

            So my cousin married this lady ten years ago. She seriously is the sweetest woman I have ever met on the planet. I don’t know how she does it. Her capacity to care is greater than anyone I’ve ever seen, her faith and love of everyone around her puts the rest of us to shame. She also is hilarious, can drink me under the table, (a skill she doesn’t exhibit so much these days) and seriously puts up with me falling asleep every time we hang out. I can’t seem to help myself- sorry lady. Her kids call me their Aunt Niki and lecture me when I don’t come around often enough. Anytime I get to spend with her is a blast, and time I wouldn’t trade for anything.

            Last but not least, och well- she’s my main lady.  She’s seen me raw- the really un-pretty stuff. She holds my rose called glasses when I throw a hissy fit, stand by as I act like a prize idiot, and she plays with my hair. Yes, that’s just as important as all the rest. There’s isn’t much to be said that I haven’t already said. She enhances my happiness in a way no one else does. 

            So there they are- my main squeezes. I always thought “Bros before Hoes” was a stupid saying, until I realized I live by it.  I love all these people with everything I’ve got, would throw a blanket party for anyone who wronged them, and even drink with them- these are big things dude, I’m a giver.  I’m loyal to a fault, and carry their loads with them- that’s what we do for one another.

            There are more people I consider important to me- let’s be serious, there will probably be a part deux because I’m lucky enough to be surrounded by some spiffy people. I’m a lucky broad, and I don’t take it for granted.