growing in the goo

It seems as though these years are marked by a lot of milestones and experiences, but one that stands out in my mind is the process of saying goodbye.

No one is permanently here, all is temporary. And I don't mean that in a "we all die sometime" way - but rather, we're all young, we're trying different things, we stay in one place for a year, or two, then we move on...leaving behind traces of wonderfulness, and friends that hug you and shed a tear for you as you face the next great adventure.

This week is a double threat: two fantastic guys that I've become friends with are leaving. I met them at the old apartment...

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Picture the scene. It's winter, and C-note, E, and I are about to head out for a movie. There's a knock at the door. Someone opens it. And there's this tall guy, saying that he heard from someone in the laundry room that we were the girls to know in the building. We were a bit surprised. Then he started talking politics, and that got our hackles up.

So it was a rocky start with Sidd. I ran into him periodically, and he was always just so...calm. A slow, quiet talker, a wonderful complement to my fast, erratic, spastic speaking.

He invited the three of us to his apartment for dinner one night...and we were in rare form. He must have thought we were drunk. We started off with a serenade of "Like We Never Loved At All," then got into an argument (an argument, mind you. Not a peaceable discussion) of whether or not we were well-rounded. And through it all, Sidd sat back in his chair, watching us with an indiscernible expression on his face.

We got back to our apartment, E and C-note hung out in the living room, I went to my bedroom and burst into tears. So, all in all, the dinner was not a success.

A few weeks later, he asked me if I wanted to meet up with his friends on Friday, and I begged off, saying that I was sick. It was during my month/two month long super obnoxious cold.

That Friday night, E and C-note had gone out, and I settled in for a pity party and a movie. Then there was a knock at the door. I got up, answered...and there Sidd was. I can't imagine how I looked. I was wearing pajamas, my nose was red, I had tissues fused to my hand. I may have been wearing Uggs with my yellow shorts.

And no, I wasn't the cliched "she doesn't know how she cute is when she's sick." I was a raging germ machine. And he said that he came by to see how I was feeling, if I needed anything, if he could get me some chicken soup.

That's when Sidd captured my heart. You see, he's a vegan. And he offered me chicken soup, in the hopes that it would make me feel better. That's just the tip of the iceberg when it comes to how thoughtful he is, how considerate he's been with me.

Dearest Sidd. Best of luck in Michigan...where it's cold, and they have polar bears as pets.

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Xander, aka anon, good old anon. C-note and I met Xander one night after grocery shopping. Per our usual style (or, rather, my usual style), I had bought way too many groceries, and we were juggling a bazillion bags, a 12 pack of Pepsi, and a 12 pack of Coke.

Transferring our foodstuffs into the elevator, a guy stepped in. Seeing someone our age, we lit up. Up to this point, the only gentlemen we had met in our building had a solid 40 years on us. Knowing a plum opportunity when it presents itself, we made the most out of that 30 second elevator ride.

Parting with him in the hall (he lived at one end, we lived at the other), we promised to keep in touch and stop by sometime.

Little did Xander know, by "sometime" we meant "15 minutes later." In a fit of spontaneity, we ran down the hall and invited him and his roommate over for tacos. The fact that we had never before made tacos was just a detail.

Xander and M showed up in a half hour with some wine. And so began our weekly neighbor dinners, trading off apartments every Wednesday. The meals prepared by our apartment generally featured chicken as a staple; they flexed their cooking muscles and prepared hearty entrees such as lasagna, steak, and eggplant. And it was delicious.

During these dinners Xander was usually quiet, and let M do the talking. I could see his secret smile blooming at the stupid things we said, and he had this mischievous glint in his eyes that he never explained.

I was dying to get to know Xander.

One night, after a work happy hour, I got my chance. Tripping off the elevator, I looked down to their apartment, and saw my target, about to unlock his door. I hissed his name, and we met halfway, at the elevator door.

I forget what we talked about (well, actually, I don't, muahaha), but Xander was slightly drunk, and feeling reckless, he finally opened up to his annoying neighbor. He answered terribly nosy questions that I posed without shame, he talked. And when my phone rang, he escaped. He told me at the next neighbor dinner that he felt like he had been violated.

That was the real beginning of our friendship, I think. Since then, we've been so honest with each other, asking what we mean, and not going about things in a roundabout manner. I ask him personal things, he answers me, and asks personal things in return. It's a no bullshit relationship. We know that it's okay to be vulnerable, because the other understands and won't take advantage.

Xander. Thank you. And when you're a world-famous international diplomat sort of guy - remember me.

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Oh Siddharth, you who put a semi-colon in a scribbled note to me, and called me "Lovely Meg."

Oh Xander, you who bought us a sponge for our party, knowing that we are deficient in the housekeeping department. Every time I use that sponge, I think of you.

I'll miss the two of you. I'm so glad we had our times to hang out, the opportunities to get to know each other...that the arc of our lives shared the same path, if only for a season.