First Impressions

First impressions are wrong. When you met someone for the first time, your fight or flight instinct kick in. Yes or no. Friend or foe. Yes… or no. Snap judgements are made in the blink of an eye.  And first impressions are wrong.

You walked up to me on a steamy summer day in the parking lot of our new apartment. My only thought was; Locked into a year lease; this is not going to work. You looked like a girl that I went to high school with. Tank top and booty shorts. Popular. Nice. Fun… a party girl; nice on the outside, friends for a few months. Not long lasting with nothing in common. Strong routine of mine.

We started cordial like most roommates start for the first month or two. With my long-term best friend, me, I knew it could be worse. We could not be getting along at all, but at least I have Pumpkin; my childhood cat. He took a liking to you, which was good news for me. Pumpkin is a good judge of character.

All Hallo’s eve. Time of year where I go to my yearly party. Disgust and a fairy walk down Church street, taking in all the sights. First time to legally drink. First time to legally get wild.

First stop, bar one. A spot that became our regular. With drinks and board games, what could be wrong? The fun is just getting started when someone from your past walks in. A group of girls from our college. Snobby. Caty. Nasty. We all hang for a while but, we say goodbye and head to stop two: my friend’s party. Bye ladies.

We are stumbling down Church Street. Church turns into Pearl. As I feel the freezing air sober my mind, you disclose to me about your old friend group. The story sound eerily similar to mine. I have lived it too many time over to count.

Friend meets friend.

Friend and friend become closer and closer.

Best friend and Best friend promise to be there for each other.

Best friend meets a new friend.

Best friend dumps old Best friend for new friend.

End of story.

1:03am. Home at last. Party was adequate, it filled the hunger I get every year. But now I am physically hungry. Thank god for 24 hour McDonalds and thank god for friends.

As time goes on we bond over getting busted, the beautiful musicians, massages, roommate dates, and driving for no reason at all. From Gin Wigmore to photography to Cider Mill. We connect like two puzzle pieces. Meant to meet. Meant to be united. Meant to be friends forever.

And when I heard the worst noise in the world, you were there with a bottle of wine or… two. When he died and I cried tears of relief, you were there with a shoulder to lean on. When I thought, I was better off dead than alive, you were there with a thirty second dance party.

You helped me through some of the darkest times and I thank you for it. For all of it. Wine. Shoulder. Dance party. And everything in between.

Thelma and Louise. Partners in crime. Ride or die.

And first impressions are wrong. When you met someone for the first time, your fight or flight instinct kick in. Yes or no. Friend or foe. Yes… or no. Snap judgements are made in the blink of an eye.  And first impressions are wrong.

As I stand in an empty apartment and relive all the wonderful memories. I think back to my first impression of you. A stuck up looking girl who reminded me of high school. As I laugh to myself I think

Thank god first impressions are wrong.

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