(I’ve had a rough couple of months, splitting up with my abusive partner, changing stores for work, and moving to a new place. I have scraped together basic furniture but have no luxuries like a washing machine, TV, or stereo. I also regularly walk 35 minutes to work, then wait 45 minutes in the dark to catch the last bus home. My closest friends and family all live in another state, about a 10-hour drive away. This year my birthday falls on a long weekend. My best friend rings me early on the Friday morning.)

Best Friend: “Hey, how are you? Sorry if I woke you.”

Me: “No, that’s okay. I’ve got to see if the laundromat is open today, anyway. I’m okay. How are you?”

Best Friend: “I’m good. Since I got a bonus at work, [Housemate], [Close Friend], [Other Close Friend], and I are on a road trip down the coast. Just thought I’d check in on you.”

Me: “Oh, that’s sweet. I hope you guys have a good time. Say hi to everyone.”

Best Friend: “Will do. Any plans for your birthday?”

Me: “Nope. Just some housework.”

(We chatted for a few minutes before hanging up. A few minutes later, there was a knock at my door. I opened it to find my friends. My best friend had bought me a good secondhand car with six months rego on it, a new washing machine and dryer, TV, and stereo, among other little things. My friends then hired a trailer, packed up the car, and made the long trip to surprise me for my birthday. They had booked a nice motel, took me shopping for new clothes, out for dinner on my birthday and sightseeing around the city, before flying home on Sunday, without me spending a cent. My best friend had spent pretty much all of the money from his bonus on the car and other things for my flat, while my other friends had pooled their money and paid for their flights, the motel, and shopping. I will be ever grateful for their love and support.)

(I’m in a bar during my first week of university and have sat down by the dance floor to rest for a minute. A student I vaguely recognise from my halls comes and sits next to me. I am female.)

Guy: “Hey, how about I buy you a drink, and then we can get out of here?”

Me: “Ah, I’m really sorry. I’m a lesbian.”

(This is true.)

Guy: *thinks for a minute* “I have moobs?”

(I immediately twigged that he wasn’t serious, and he’s been one of my best friends for the last seven years. I was even his best woman when he got married.)

(I am living by myself for the first time in my life. I have a really close friend; we’ve known each other since we were 12 and are like family. We also work together and have keys to each other’s houses. This takes place at 4:00 am while I’m showering to get ready for work. I hear the bathroom door open and the unmistakable sound of someone using the restroom.)

Me: *from the shower* “Good morning, [Friend]!”

Friend: *in a very much not-awake voice* “I’m sorry, [My Name]; I didn’t realize you were already in here.”

(They finish, wash their hands, and leave. I keep showering. A few minutes later, they are back.)

Friend: *sounding more awake* “Wait a minute! This is my bathroom! Why are you in my shower?”

Me: “Sorry, I needed to shower.”

Friend: *as if this explains everything* “Spider?”

Me: *because it does explain everything* “Spider.”

Friend: *sighs* “I’ll go over before work and save your bathroom from the big scary spider.”

Me: “Thank you! Now, can you go away, so I can finish getting ready for work?”

I had a tough time keeping friends as a kid because of my temper and my dark sense of humor. By middle school I was pretty much a loner. By pure chance, that ended up being the year I met the girl that would be my best friend. She was (and still is) a quirky, innocent type, sweet, kind, and really funny, but she also didn’t always get why her jokes were funny. She also wasn’t an aggressive person, always choosing to let something go rather than risk starting a fight over it. Even though we were really different, we got along great and I feel like I really grew as a person with her by my side.

In sophomore year, I started dating a guy I really liked. He seemed really nice and we had a lot of fun together. After we’d been dating a year, I stupidly agreed to sleep with him, since I was sure that we were in love and had a real chance for a future together someday.

Something changed afterwards. We still hung out like normal, but he didn’t seem as into our relationship as he was before. He would show more interest if sex was involved, but it was always a temporary solution. My friend suggested that my boyfriend and I go to an upcoming school dance together, along with her and a few people we knew. It was going to be a fun night of fancy outfits and partying. When I brought up the idea to my boyfriend, he seemed okay with the idea, and plans were made to meet up there.

When I got to the dance, I was doing great. I looked good, I felt good, and I was pumped to have a good time with people I cared about. And that’s when I walked into the dance hall and saw my boyfriend dancing and kissing his new girlfriend. I yelled at him for a bit before I had to run away in tears.

I made it to the entrance hall before I collapsed into a corner. I just wanted to die, I was so upset. My friend arrived, saw me huddled over in tears and ran to me, asking what was wrong. She gave me a blank stare as I explained. When I finished, she pulled me in for a hug before she stood back up, told me to stay put, and began walking away. Confused, I decided to follow, anyway.

In a fantastic moment I wish I had recorded, she walked right through the gym doors, straight up to my now ex-boyfriend, and slapped him. As he stood there in shock, she stared him dead in the eyes and said, “You are a bad person, and you should be ashamed of yourself.” She then turned around and walked back toward where I was standing, grabbing a cup of punch and a cookie from the snack table for me on her way. That was 15 years ago, and we are still best friends to this day.

(At my primary school, there is a disciplinary system where students receive a verbal warning, then two yellow cards, then a red card. My little brother is quite badly behaved, and is inseparable from his two best friends. This is when he is six or seven years old.)

Little Brother: *running to Mum at pickup* “Guess what?! [Best Friend #1] and [Best Friend #2] both got straight red cards today!”

Mum: “Really? Must have been a terrible thing they did.”

Little Brother: “Yeah! They brought in a big pack of matches and set a fire in the playground!”

Mum: “And where were you during all this?”

Little Brother: “Oh, I was off collecting firewood.”