That "would I ask to crash on your couch" rule? The one that would give me pause to unfriend someone? Yeah, about that.
I DID actually crash on your couch -- or, more accurately, your floor -- once upon a time when my soon-to-be-ex-vehicle broke down on the way to a camping/music festival with my already-ex, but soon-to-be-fully-"divorced" boyfriend. Talk about awkward. We were in each others' company only because we'd (I'd) bought the tickets before the breakup, and then the stubborn asshole refused to give his up, and I had no other ride. The payback for that ticket and the car repairs (which I otherwise never would have seen a penny of) resulted in my guitar, so I can't complain too loudly... but I digress.
I barely knew you then, but you were a close friend of a few of my college housemates. You'd moved away before I'd moved in with them, but had been around enough times for me to know that you were good people.
We'd jammed a few times at open-mics around town, and I'd sat in on a few of your solo gigs. but sometimes two females don't click so well sharing a stage, especially when one is convinced that they're on the cusp of "making it big." I'm honestly sorry that didn't happen for you. You had a lot wrapped up in that dream. And you were talented! (Probably still are?)
The only other real connection we had was a night hanging out in my (shared) college house, watching The Green Mile. Just as the movie reached its apex, the phone rang. For you. The call that let you know that your beloved dog had just been hit, and killed, by a car. Eesh. I drove you home. Forty silent minutes away. Again, awkward.
So, I hope you're in a happy place, at a happy time. It was nice to click through your pictures, and to say hello. but I think there's not much else to say. Peace, love, and rock and roll!
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