Beet salad at Lazy Goat (Greenville, SC)

I met my college roommate in a chat room.

TRUTH. Allow me to elaborate…

I met my college roommate in a chat room for losers who were so excited to go to Furman that they felt the need to chat about it months in advance with other losers who were so excited to go to Furman. (Sorry Kristen, you know this is true.)

We were both asking undoubtedly Type A, obnoxious questions on the university’s internal forums about how to control every single step of our enrollment/orientation process when it dawned on us that, HEY WE SHOULD BE ROOMMATES AND CONTROL EEEEEVERYTHING.

We spent months–months–chatting on AIM about what our room would look like, how we’d arrange the furniture and who would be bringing what. (Trust that I brought the Jim Beam.)

I don’t remember a whole lot about move in day except that her wiener dog was present and I cried when my family left me. Also that the girl next door had a cool canvass satchel backpack and I wanted to steal it and throw my Jansport away, and the girl across the hall came over to introduce herself as Megan but her name is actually Margaret but everyone would call her Meg and I would call her Dirty Marge.

These became my best friends and roommates for four years.

Babies.

It’s been nine years (WHAT) since we met that day and, since graduating, reunions have been rare.

Last night, though, the dream team reunited. There aren’t a whole lot of people I’d drive two hours to share one meal with and turn around and come home. These are a select few of those people.

Kristen’s door welcomed us with a picture of our freshman door. (So funny.) Back in the days before status updates, people left notes (and their schedules/daily itineraries) on their white boards… Remember that? Uhyeah.

COME IN

Our first realization after digging through Kristen’s box of old college stuff was that we wore hideous clothes and looked dirty most of the time.

Who let me out in that tube top?

I can’t say this is not still true for me now, too, but I do clean up all right.

Like fine wine.

The second realization was that I missed my calling as a cartoonist and perhaps greeting card writer. Kristen saved all the very best notes I left her… (“Please stab me if I’m not up by 6am” is my favorite.)

We drank wine and reminisced and then had dinner at Lazy Goat. I got the beet salad and hummus, and Sandwich (her real name is Lauren) busted out angel food, brownie batter, tiramisu and bacon candy bars. Glorious day.

Harissa hummus

It’s amazing to me how much time can pass and yet how seamlessly four people can pick right back up where they left off.

Also, can I just tell how you amazing it feels to be around people who have known you for longer than, like, 6 months? Because I’ve only been here and year and was a depressed little hermit for much of that, pretty much everyone in my immediate Charlotte circle has known me about that long and I feel like you kind of lose yourself when you don’t have someone around to remind you about that time you threw up in front of the main entrance fountain in front of a cop after drinking a Zaxby’s cup full of bourbon. Or that time you accidentally drove to West Virginia on purpose. Or that time you peed in your pants because you were laughing so hard. Or that time you got publicly hypnotized on stage into believing you’d lost your virginity and it was only hilarious to the people who knew that you were, like, the only virgin left in the world at that point.

Man, I love college. And I love those girls.