Friends in Need

If you're lucky, you have friends like my friend Rob.

I met Rob in the cafeteria of my high school. He was a year ahead of me, and friends with all the people I knew, the dirty punk/goth/skinhead kids. At the time, he was into Nazi memorabilia, but we all do stupid things as youth. The thing is, Rob's a very gregarious guy, people like him and include him in their activities. It doesn't hurt that he has an encyclopedic knowledge of music and that his parents had a hot tub.

Every concert, every party, every get-together of any kind, Rob was there and I was there. We never dated, although he claims now to have had a thing for me back then. He is a handsome guy for sure, but I had a boyfriend back then, from 8th grade until I was 27. I digress.

I run into Rob every few years, and it's as if no time has passed. We're delighted to see each other, we have drinks and catch up on life's drama unfolding up our asses. Then we don't see each other for awhile and the cycle repeats.

I know that if I were to call him right now and ask for his help, he'd do it. He'd be perplexed and probably wonder how the hell I got his number, but he'd gladly help. And that is completely mutual.

For a short time, we wrote for competing magazines. Obviously reaching for something to write about in his nightlife column, Rob wrote about me. Wanna read it?

Here it is. A toast, to friends in need, who are friends indeed!