If we were having coffee, you would be my best friend. Because you would know that all I need right now is a caramel frappuccino and maybe a muffin. And you would know to take me to a coffee shop no closer than 30 minutes from my house because I need to get out of this place. And you would absolutely know to steer me to the most comfortable, cushioned chairs by the window because we would be there for a while. Because I really need to vent.
If we were having coffee, I’d first tell you about when I went to Target today. How, on an impulse, I leaped from my bed and ran after my mother as she called “goodbye,” just to make her take me with her. And how I wasn’t going to buy anything, but then realized how much I actually do need (Target does that to you), and how I spent almost $100. But I’d tell you how my card kept declining, so my mother ended up paying–after I promised that I’d pay her back.
I’d tell you about how I got into the car and opened up my Huntington app, only to realize that I didn’t have close to $1,000 on it like I had thought. Instead, I was down to less than $70. I’d tell you how my heart sank as I slowly pieced together that these latest purchases were not made by me. I’d tell you how we drove to the nearest Huntington, my mind racing, thinking of this anonymous thief who just dropped $450 of my money at Urban Outfitters. I’d tell you how I sat, motionless, on the other side of the desk, as the Huntington manager calculated that this person had spent over $700 in the two days they had my information.
I’d assure you that everything’s okay now. That, somehow, I’ll be reimbursed for this money because I filled out the forms for fraud. And even though I don’t know how this person got my information or who they are or how to prevent this in the future, it’s okay.
Then I’d have to change the subject because I can’t talk about this anymore.
So we’d talk about you and your summer and how things have been going on your end. And if you’re anything like my other friends, you’d tell me all about your travels and you’d show me your instagram account, full of pictures of you moving from one exotic location to the next. You’d tell me about your adventures and I’d absent-mindedly sip my drink until the last drop, listening intently to all of your fascinating stories. I’d probably laugh and say that the craziest thing about my summer so far is the failure of a party that Sean and I threw. Then I’d shake my head because I don’t really want to talk about that either.
If we were having coffee, I’d stretch my legs out onto the coffee table (don’t mind that I haven’t shaved in a while), and talk about how excited I am for the future–because that’s really the only good thing I’ve got going for me right now. That’s really the only thing I love to talk about–because it can be anything, and it can be wonderful. And my life right now is just boring, and everything I do feels like a waste of time.
But I’d tell you about my dreams. And how I hope right now that I’ll save up enough money to buy myself a nice video camera for Christmas and document the year of 2016. Sarah’s graduation and my summer in Luxembourg and who knows where else that year will take me.
I would tell you all of this if we were having coffee, and I hope that once I was done blabbing on, you would make me get in the car and drive out to some place really cool that I’ve never been before, and force me to actually have one of these adventures that I always plan but never execute.
And then before we part ways, you would pick a date for the next time we can get coffee together. And you’d tell me I’d better have a better story than that lame one about the time when my parents caught us in the aftermath of a party.