Simeon and I are going on a play date with my best friend from middle school. We reconnected over Facebook and she invited us to join up with her and her two boys at the park. I’m really excited and really nervous. My agoraphobia is kicking in.
Though I’ve been corrected. Agoraphobia is the fear of public places and crowds. Check. Or leaving a safe place: i.e. my house. Check.
Anthropophobia is the fear of people. Check.
Whatever you call it, I’ve got sweaty palms.
Denita (we’ll call her) was my best friend in sixth grade when I farted loudly during a movie in science class. Oh, she laughed with the rest of them, but she continued being my friend and for that, I loved her.
Denita was the friend who, a few years later, walked in on me in the shower so that she could poop, and declared without nary a thought: “wow! you’ve got a really long butt crack!”
She was real like that.
Denita introduced me to the likes of GreenDay’s Dookie album, STP, Blind Melon, Smashing Pumpkins, Pearl Jam, Radio Head and a myriad of other pop culture media I would have missed had I been left to my own devices. Until Denita the only cd’s in my collection were Paula Abdul and Hanson. Although truthfully, neither were cd’s, they were cassettes. Seriously.
So, I’m nervous. She may note the hairs on my chin, or the fact that I’ve gained about a million pounds, plus or minus five. She could spot all the things I like to pretend aren’t there and if the thought crosses her mind, I’m sure she’ll share it. But I’m excited because I know that even though Denita sees the flaws, or at least she did sixteen years ago, she’s honest. She doesn’t care. And, she still wants to be my friend.
I’ll let y’all know how it goes!