Did we just become best friends?

 As I’m sure you know, I’ve had a bit of a problem of late. And that would be the lack of friends I have in the general vicinity of where I live.  The people I’m closest too are flung across the country (and world).  When the closest friend I had made after college moved from my Midwest locale to the eastern seaboard, I was left generally alone. 

It wasn’t too bad for a while.  I had a shit-ton of work to keep me busy for the first couple months, and then I was making and selling lots of jewelry, and then it was the holidays.  After that, spending time with family and going to YR events kept me occupied.  But it wasn’t the same.  I didn’t really have anyone that I would go see movies with or go shopping or drinking. 

I mean, other than my mom.  We saw Guardians of the Galaxy last weekend, and that was lovely.  But you know what I mean. 

Last night I went to a YR happy hour expecting it to be the usual outing.  Meet up with like-minded people.  Hope new, reasonable attractive guys wander in.  Act like I have some semblance of a social life. But last night was more like the happy hours I went to when my friend J lived here.  A happy hour that rolls into a nine-hour jaunt at three different bars.

I met two girls, actually my age, and after grabbing dinner at the initial HH location, we went to another bar in Soulard.  A couple strawberry ciders later, and I think it’s a grand idea for us to go to Ballpark Village downtown.  So the three of us cab it there and party it up. 

C generously offered B and I accommodations for the night at her apartment.  Which is lucky, because I didn’t need to drive the 45 minutes home after the festivities.

And I couldn’t help it.  As I settled on to her couch to catch 6 hours of sleep, I thought finally.  I’ve made some new friends.

I mean dancing it up until 3 am, watching C ride a mechanical bull, meeting a soccer player from Scotland, and making eyes at every cute guy on the dance floor, makes you friends, right?