At the back of my mind, I think I’ve always imagined sitting in coffee shops, alone, drinking coffee and writing some epic story, or surrounded by my court, discussing politics and keeping each other up to date on happenings in the world while making witty remarks and planning revolutions.

The movies, they lie when they tell you what your life is going to be like.

I don’t have a ton of friends, especially not any who engage in their beliefs and feelings as political. They are not idealists or political–they are the “in the real world”/”on how life is” types. In so many ways, I feel deprived, spiritually, intellectually, psychologically starving–not to say that they are lacking as people but that I desire more. Most of the people I call my friends are content to ignore me until they remember I exist or want some “intelligent conversation”.

But last evening/night, I went out to a small, popular tea house here in Fresno with a woman I met at work and though it wasn’t how I imagined it before, just the two of us was fine. It wasn’t coffee, it was tea, on another note.

We talked about almost all the things. And when I got into a few painful yet somewhat recent things from my past as related to our discussion, she listened and seemed to understand the horror of what I’d been through on some level. Which is more than I can say for other people in my life.

We had dinner and talked and laughed and she told me about the city I’d ended up in.

I even got to see like fireworks as close as I’ve ever been for the first time from the nearby stadium.

My only compulsive worry was that I’d talked too much the whole time.

Here’s to new friends, and hopes for the best. Here’s to at the very least a lovely evening.