Delilah wrote a blog damning the institution of the bromance, I'm here to tell you a little about my own bromance (yes, I know I'm not exactly a "bro" but no one has coined a term to define the same thing for chicks).
I love her.
Last Friday, she sent me a text:
"'Shut your face, Asian!' That was my favorite part of the night."
I had coerced her into attending my family's New Year's Eve euchre tournament. I'd like to tell you I invited her to a place where she barely knew anyone because I didn't want her, a typically social creature, to spend that evening, of all evenings, home alone as she planned. But that was just my excuse. The truth is, everything is just better when she's there.
And I wanted her to meet my family.
She liked us because we're a loud crowd and it's a good thing because we didn't end up at the same table once. That's okay. She was there and, as such, I had the opportunity to shout, "Shut your face, Asian!" across a crowded room.
Isn't life beautiful?
We developed a certain rapport when we met a year ago upon my return to the G-A-P. I don't know how the "you're stupids" and "I hate yous" started, but unlike other friendships or romances, we skipped over all of the tap dancing that accompanies getting to know each other and sparks flew in the form of insults.
I'm happy to report that we've been able to maintain that level of intensity for a whole year. *beams*
It's likely prudent for me to tell you that the verbal abuse and hate mail we exchange are code. Even the people around us know it. "I hate you" really means "I love you" and "you're stupid" usually means "you're smart, funny, and awesome." Except sometimes it actually does mean "you're stupid." People can stand there and listen to her tell me that she hopes I hit a tree on the way home and know it means, "I'll be really bummed if you don't show up for work tomorrow." And she will be. Whether it's because that means that she loves me or doesn't want to have to work my shift is neither here nor there.
While it isn't a sexual thing, there's plenty of sexually charged innuendo. We even have our own song. It's called "Magic Position." I'm going to put her in the magic position. That is, if she doesn't put me in it first.
Sorry, for showing a picture of your butt on my blog, SJ.
Should other people feel threatened by our magic? No, because it's not the same as my other relationships. No one can replace the history, the present, the future that I have with Lori, no one else will celebrate me for being a pervy old lady who drools over her 24-year-old male teachers like Maranda, no one else will be catty and share in private sessions of judgement over other people like my sister, and no one else knows every nuance of every sentence I write to sense how I'm feeling like Abbey. Also, know one knows every song lyric in the world like Abbey. FYI.
In the meantime, I will keep batting my eyelashes every time Sarajane enters a room, even as I'm trying to trip her. And I won't tell her that I've noticed that we've replaced 25% of our "I hate yous" with genuine "I love yous" and that I like it. Except I just did tell her, kind of.
(That's our text message code for "scissor!")