Friendship - Elementary Style

I went out to lunch today with a new work friend.  She is very sarcastic and dry and a little bit grumpy in a Dorothy Zbornack sort of way.  I like her.  She’s my kind of people. 

But going out to lunch with a new friend is a nerve-wracking thing.  Almost like a first date.  Interacting at work, we mutually and wordlessly agreed that we would probably make good friends.  And so an invitation was made and accepted.  But then the anxiety sets in.  What if we don’t have anything to talk about?  What if we have NOTHING in common except sarcasm?  Sarcasm in a friendship is important, but it will only take you so far.  I felt like I had signed up for the Friendship version of It’s Just Lunch. 

It was cool, though.  She’s funny, we had lots to talk about.  She’s a “good-at-getting-to-know-you” type of person.  She’s my first new friend in a while, so I’m a little out of practice.  I’ve gotten really bad at just working through the day and eating at my desk.  I have to change this habit. 

Anyway, it got me to thinking. 

Why can’t it just be like when we were kids?  You’d find someone at recess, hanging upside down on the monkey bars just like you like to do!  You wouldn’t say a word, you’d just climb up there and hang upside down, too…  The conversation likely FINALLY started just as the blood was rushing to your head and probably went something like this:

“My cat’s name is Kitty.”

“Well, I have a goldfish.”

Once these formal introductions were over, you would then proceed to show off your best tricks to one another, still without talking.  Because, really, who can have quality conversation when your dress is hanging down over your head (you always hated that your mom made you wear shorts underneath, but had to admit it was better than everyone seeing your Wonder Woman underwear). 

The bell would ring, you’d both do some sort of trick dismount and then run to the classroom. 

The friendship would then be solidified at lunch, when it was time to line up and march to the cafeteria.  You’d race to get in line behind your monkey bars friend and hope that when it was time to sit down with your tray, you wouldn’t get separated by the end of the table.  (Many friendships end this way, you know)

“Chocolate milk is my favorite.”

“Mine, too!”

“I’ll trade my apples for your pudding.”

And THAT is how best friends are made.