Awning

Pissing into the urinal next to me at John's and Jackie's wedding reception, Squeak tilted his head back towards the ceiling and inquired, "Yo, are you going to suck her pussy lips tonight?"

It was the third time I had been asked that question in the last 24 hours.

"What... Who... Meg? It's not like that. We're just friends."

Squeak squeaked, "You see her tits though? Fuck man, you know, they're big, round... you know what I'm saying? You got to spray your cum on them if you really want this to turn out to be a good weekend, you know what I mean?"

But honestly, I had absolutely no intention of spraying my cum on Meg's tits the entire weekend, or any other weekend after that.

My friendship with Meg started about a year and a half ago, when she commented on this site and eventually stalked my AIM screen name. Maybe it was our shared passion for writing, maybe it was our similarly twisted sense of humor, maybe it was the fact that we recognized each other as the Top Two Greatest Asians in the History of the Universe, I don't know, but Meg and I became quick friends, kindred blogging souls.

You've all seen that Dave Chappelle skit. There's this belief that the internet is dirty, that people only meet each other off of the internet to have sex. And you've all watched When Harry Met Sally. Because of that movie, no one believes that platonic friendships exist between a man and woman.

Well, I am happy to say that my friendship with Meg dispels both of those myths.

It was still surreal, however, to actually get to hang out with her after all this time. Meg flew in from Brooklyn last Friday to spend a weekend full of sight-seeing and partying with me, and although at times it felt as innocuous as an old college buddy coming to visit, there were many moments where I had to stand back and try to comprehend the fact that we had just met for the first time.

Regardless, Meg and I got along great. She's as witty and self-deprecating as advertised, with an enviable level of intelligence that doesn't quite synch up with her profession. I'll be the first to tell you that, from what I've seen this weekend, if Meg puts her mind to it, she can do anything she wants.

The best thing about Meg is that she's exactly like me. Imagine spending the day with another version of yourself. You would be laughing, agreeing, complimenting, talking the whole entire time. You'd have the least challenging, least upsetting best friend you'd ever have.

As I wrote to Meg yesterday over IM, "It's a shame that we're not neighbors."

It really is a shame.

...

At the wedding reception, while John's voice quivered near the end of his speech as he spoke about how much he appreciated his friends and family for being there on his special day, I looked away as to not get too caught up in any silly emotions, and I gave everyone at my table -- all of my old buddies from NIU -- a good once-over.

There was Mark, once an apathetic intellectual leader of our old computer science clique, now just a simple, jovial guy with teddy bear features. There was Nate, as gracious as he'd been since the first day I met him, his head nodding in approval, his eyes wide open and attentive to John's words. There was Squeak, a womanizer with a heart of gold. There was Dave, a wannabe womanizer with a heart of gold, a guy with too much Joey Tribbiani in his personality for you to ever truly get mad at him. There was Phil, completely in his element, hiding behind his camera taking photos. Click. Flash.

I looked at everyone, and I was so proud to see the collection of friends -- new and old -- I made over the years. I looked at Meg, and the way I associated her with the rest of my friends, it seemed impossible that we had just met for the first time the night before.

...

Before I walked Meg to the security checkpoint at O'Hare and gave her the biggest hug I possibly could, she said to me, "You know, the amount of time I was here this weekend was just right. Two and a half days. It was the perfect amount of time I spent here, before we'd get to the point of getting sick of each other."

I agreed until I was halfway on my ride back to the city via the Blue Line, when I realized that, even with a planned visit to New York next spring, I probably won't see Meg more than three or four times in the rest of my life.

And it's a shame. We should be neighbors.

I have many best friends. Dave is my Bash Brother, my partner in crime. Phil is the one I care about the most. Roy is the one I'm closest to. May is the one I'll never forget about. Frank is my most loyal. Lynn is my sister.

Before this weekend, I considered Meg Tanglao to be the Best Friend I've Never Met Before. Now, I simply consider her a best friend.