Snippets of a good night.

In high school me and my friend AM made muffins one day, I'm not sure why. But we delivered them to various people and for one day we were the amazing muffin brigade. JM was probably the most excited. So when I made muffins for my friend EB's birthday (It was her 21st, me and BA took her Muffins and 'Morgan (Captain Morgan aka C-Mo's haha)), me and BA called JM to see if he wanted some muffins! He was at BP's, so we went over there, planning to deliver, chat, and leave. We stayed from 7:30 to 11:30. Talking about nothing, discussing life. Musing at the beet latkes from the Vegan-omics cookbook.

Tell me about your life. "Me and T got in a little fender bender," other conversation. "We hit this lady, I just looked at T for a minute and the light turned green and I went." You hit a lady? "Ya, well more of a girl" Nice way to meet people, I hit you with my car! Did you get a number? This is JMs way of flirting "She was in a car too" oh. that makes the story not as good haha

"I have something to show you!" If it had been someone other than JM, I may have thought he was taking me outside to kiss me. Not that anyone wants to kiss me, but just if they did, that would be one way to get out of the crowded room that was EP and BP's apartment. But no, he took me to his car and showed me something on his visor. A pink I am Loved button. I handed them out on Valentines day many a year ago. It was the Valentines day where he sat at my lunch table and we had a valentines day picnic with some awesome girls. So i gave him a hard time about how he thinks about me and just keeps driving instead of hanging out! It was nice. To know I have a witness in JM.

He was asleep there, I didn't even realize. I sat on the arm of the couch, just beyond his feet. He woke up when we talked about a beer run and I volunteered to buy. "wait, how old are you?" "It's so weird that you're 21, because the dominant memory I have of you, you were being so incredibly immature." - NC I'm so glad I'm more mature now. and embarrassed that I was such a little shit in high school.

I sat on a beanbag, facing two boys I've known since I was 14 tentatively playing an awesome bongo drum while listening to vinyl. They were both going about their own activities, BA was reading an article for Spanish and complaining when they misspelled ridiculous words. The other, TB, was trying to move 86.4 days of music to an external harddrive. The conversation was sparse, but good. TB telling me about his life, wanting to share, explain. I think that might be my love language. Not touch, people talking to me and letting me into their lives. Sharing. Witnessing. I think that's why I talk and write so much, I want someone to witness that I'm here, breathing, thinking. TB said he thought I had a good music sensibility, I was just afraid. I continued to beat the bongo, with a little more confidence and a little more joy.

"Call me when you're done with your three dates and want some peach salsa!"