Talking with friend

The past couple of days, I've been en route to a friend's apartment and then spending most free minutes talking with him. Our histories are so similar, our demons from the same hellish softball team of doom and our senses of humor so completely aligned that we fall into a space where little else can get in, which is fine by me. 

It's remarkable that this person also identifies as male, adn that we befriended each other in 1982. I have had very few male friends over the years. Last night we went on a Platonic date that involved a great dinner, a round of miniature golf and some frozen custard. It was more fun than a date, though, because neither one of us was wondering "what would happen." It reminded me again that I would enjoy just doing things with people and *never* worrying about "what is going to happen." The option had never presented itself in regard to women. 

The other bizarre dimension of all this is that we were hanging out in my old childhood vacation grounds of Long Beach Island, so the intersection of the present and past was eerie. 

If you're ever on Long Beach Island, go here and get a frozen custard chocolate vanilla twist with a chocolate dip. You're welcome. 

It's especially a good thing to do after a round of mini golf at Island Golf.