Friends.

A million years ago, I was a user of a site called "Open Diary."  All of my friends utilized the site and it became a place at which you could divest yourself of the things you couldn't say to a person's face.  I mean, we talked a lot of shit.  And I was particularly angsty with my shit.

It's not my intention to take my new little baby blog into the world of shit-talking.  Especially about my friends.  They will always find out.  Keep it in the hand-written word, bitches.

That being said, I have some pretty amazing friends.  They're all fucking bonkers, in their own special ways, but phenomenal people nonetheless.  My husband and I moved to Savannah about eighteen months ago.  It'll be two years in August.  When we were living in the city from which we came, we lived separately.  He was still a student and I was a struggling professional.  I worked three jobs to maintain my apartment and my horse.  So I didn't have time for friends.  I didn't go out with anyone other than him.

Fast-forward to Savannah and I actually have friends again.  I have people that want to spend time with me.  It's amazing and wonderful and a bit overwhelming.  I have a large-ish group of acquaintances, with whom I'll go drinking and facebooking and whatnot.  And then I have a weird, small group of people who used to be my best friends.  And then I have my current "best friends."  It feels juvenile to talk about it in these terms, but I have no others.

My acquaintances are awesome.  Most of us have something in common - the girls I play soccer with, the girls I used to work with, the friends of friends.  My old best friends are good, in a weird way.  It's strange to think that we've all moved on, but history unites us.  That I know everything about them and their families and their former lives, but that I don't know them.  Not anymore.  And pretense drains me.

And the current best friends?  The people I actually text with, that I talk with online, that I know the current dramas of.  I do my best to stay connected, but damn.  It's hard being a grown up, having interests, being mostly introverted, and still wanting to have companionship.  I love being part of a group.  I love chatting with people and doing things.  But I also love my quiet time, my time riding, my reading time.  I love being alone.

And, finally, my bestest friend: my husband.  I get teased for still being in the newlywed phase, but I want to go home to him.  I want to spend time with him, even if it's just sitting on the couch or working out or doing nothing.  And in the same breath, I want to walk my dogs and ride my horse and go kayaking, but those aren't necessarily things that I can drag him to.  He doesn't like the dogs and the Kid isn't on his radar.  He's relented to going kayaking soon.  :)

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