Friday, February 10, 2012

An Old Farty History

I've been friends with Carolyn since we were in short pants and catching tadpoles with Henry Robinson down by the old creek. Carolyn was my BFF even back then and she never said a word when I stole anything resembling chocolate from her lunchbox.

When we got a little older and moved from tadpoles to actually trying to catch Henry Robinson himself, we remained BFFs. We used to experiment with make-up together and sneak out late at night, rolling our skirts at the waists to make them shorter and hanging down at the Tastee-Freez while hoping to catch the eye of an innappropriate Bad Boy.

When Henry Robinson left juvie for the second time and then deflowered Carolyn in the back seat of the family station wagon, I was the first person Carolyn told, and the fifth person that Henry told. It was unfortunate that Henry never learned the meaning of discretion and therefore caused Carolyn the shame of being known as "that loose Bama hussy."

But it didn't change our friendship, at all. I still stole all her chocolate and Carolyn still pretended to ignore it.

In college we drifted apart for awhile. I joined the local chapter of Students for Purity and Carolyn pledged Sigma Delta Slut. We shared the occasional English class and teacher's assistant but our heady days as BFFs seemed to be over.

It was in our junior year that things changed. I discovered that male students who studied poetry were better at cunnilingus than any of the Purity students and soon I became a Slut too.

After college we went to different places at different times but always found our way back together. All it's ever taken is Carolyn calling and saying "chocolate covered praline" and I'm right there.

We went through our divorces together, our illicit affairs and out of wedlock babies. I stood by Carolyn when she tried a sex change for shits and giggles and then when my attraction to her turned scary, when she changed back. We've stalked ex-boyfriends together, done mushrooms together and owned a pizzeria for awhile.

It's just who we are. And I still steal her chocolate.


  1. You bitch, you!

    You swore - SWORE!!- never to tell. I thought I could trust you with my deep, dark secrets but it seems I was wrong.

    However, I shall take the high road and never EVER mention your dastardly backstory. The Spaniard who called you Queer Rita. The fact that you wear six inch heels to bring your height up to five feet ... *snicker*. The house of ill repute you owned in NO that sort of got blown away.

    I, my dear, always keep a promise. :P

  2. Oh well, if you want to go there at least I didn't mention your allergy to red jell-o or aversion to the letter V.

    Because I'm a good friend.