Good ole' CHuckins aka CMaroney aka Loser Slut. We met while working as cashiers at Lowe's back in 2000 and have been friends ever since. Our nearly 15 year friendship has been mostly based on our love of inappropriateness and the fact that we pretty much share a single brain. Like the borg, only with a lot more personality.
What my besty may or may not know is that before I met her, things were very bleak. I had recently moved back to my hometown after living in Arkansas for several years. I wanted to be back in Oregon so badly that I didn't anticipate coming back and not having the ties I had when I left. My friends had all moved on and out. They were in college or starting careers. I was working a dead-end job and married to a control freak who helped isolate me even further. I didn't have any strong connections with anyone and it was taking it's toll. At one point, I mentioned feeling suicidal, so in a rare act of decency, my ex drove me to our local mental health office to try to get me some counseling. No insurance, no help. I was drowning, quick. Flash forward a few months, Chrysi and I were becoming fast friends. In spite of his controlling ways, my ex couldn't get in the way of our friendship. I spent as much time as possible with her, whether we were rocking out to Prince's "Pussy Control" while running errands or watching movies and eating "spaghetto" at her apartment.
At one point, she moved out of the area and I missed her desperately. It was during that time that I got pregnant with my first daughter and she got married. That whole chunk of my life is kind of a blur, but thankfully it didn't last terribly long and she was back in the area and pregnant with her son. We picked up where we left off, this time with babies in tow. She let me practice driving in her car and took me to the DMV to get my driver's license at the ripe old age of 24. She was my maid of honor and flew to Vegas b/c she wouldn't allow herself to miss my wedding. I will do the same when she gets married again. We got matching tattoos. In fact, she's been there with me when I've gotten both my tattoos.
Time has marched on. We've both been divorced, we've both found new and better relationships, and we've had another child. (She decided from the moment I got pregnant that Presley is "our" baby. I have to share. Period, end of story.) Through each up and down, good times and bad times, we've remained friends. So much so, that calling her my friend or my besty doesn't seem like a strong enough word. She is my heterosexual life partner. My sister from another missus and mister. When I've needed her most, she's stepped in without hesitation or question and I've done my best to return the favor. Plain and simple, she's my person.
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