Wednesday Valuables: Know your "true" true friends

After a conversation I had during lunch today, I'm thinking about my first love... that is, the first person outside of my family that I truly loved. For the purposes of this story, I'll just call her Daphne.

I met her in my acting troupe during... I guess it was fifth or sixth grade. She was the most unlikely Cancer determined to toss off my Libran balance. She was creative, eccentric, multi-talented, and loud. She was the very first person to whom I told all my secrets, all my grown-up fantasies, all my hopes and dreams. She probably listened, but when she had nothing to say she'd just keep talking. That worked out fine for me. Best of all, there were no off-limit topics.

I did really dumb things with her. Once, we agreed to try to walk to each other from our homes and meet halfway. In an age without internet mapping or a GPS, our pre-teen pea-brains couldn't have known that there was a distance of about 7 miles down J. Clyde Morris to reach one another. We didn't even use a paper map to figure out how to get there or where to meet. I made it down Harpersville, reached the sign on Route 17 that says, "Welcome to York County," and then I realized that I had been walking for one hour. I chickened out and turned back. As soon I arrived home, I called Daphne's house to see if she was there. Daphne picked up the phone.

"Yeah, I had to turn back, too," she cackled.

She came to my mind because I was thinking about what our "true" true friends can handle. There's probably a period of time for most of us during which we become whoever it is we feel we need to be to make friends with certain people. Sure, some likenesses probably help with initially striking up the friendship, but we spare those pals our darkness. We protect them from our ugliness or the things about which we are particularly ashamed.

Not me and Daphne.

Here's a brief portrait of a "true" true friend:

I was in my orange-colored room listening to some Broadway soundtrack and rocking in my water bed when my phone rang. I had one of those goofy, 80s-looking "see-through" phones displaying all the wires and gadgets inside.

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I picked up the phone (Imagine! This is before Caller ID), "Hello?"

"F*%#! YOU F*%#ing B&^$*@~!! WHAT THE F*%# IS YOUR F*%#ING PROBLEM?! WHAT IS THE G*&D^%$ DEAL?! YOU THINK YOU CAN GET AWAY WITH THIS YOU PIECE OF S^&$! GO TO HELL YOU F*%#ING B&^$*@~! I F*%#ING HATE YOU! G*&D^%$ITALL!"

I heard gasping on the line. Then a long deep sigh.

"All better?" I asked calmly.

"OH yeah, " Daphne said cheerfully. "Thanks a lot."

"Sure. Now what happened?"

I can't remember anymore what she told me... I'm sure it was about her parents or a boy. My point is merely that we were safe to be everything we actually were with one another. We both occasionally called each other and cussed each other out since we would never feel right being so hysterical with the person who had the audacity to upset us. There were no colors to our personality that we could not express with one another. No moods or pains were concealed.

Since I've been thinking of her, I hope my friends know that they are all safe to break down, cry, scream, and go through their phases... I've been there and fortunate to know people who let me be myself.

Be yourselves, my friends, with those you love. Your real friends can take it.