The Charismatic One



It’s about time to talk about my first roommate/best friend! Before I begin I’d like to start by saying how gosh-darn adorable she is. Look at the picture up there on the left; she’s cuter than a button!

Now, let’s get to business. To begin, we’ll call this best friend “The Charismatic One” (see my earlier post entitled “Helping Out” to understand the reason behind the name). The Charismatic One and I met for the first time during our University’s Honors Program Orientation. She seemed a bit shy at first, but so was I. The more outgoing of our future roommates did much of the talking. Our friendship really kick-started on move-in day. I got there before her and began to unpack my life into the tiny three person room. My parents had left by the time Charismatic got there. She walked in and I felt a connection immediately. Her family seemed really friendly and I asked if I could do anything to help her move in. I’ll never forget when we wrestled her bed together, after knowing each other for such a short time, and bonded over how impossible it was to adjust its height. Our friendship was meant to be. We spent the next week talking, laughing, sharing inside jokes, destroying walls we had erected as self-defense mechanisms, sharing our backgrounds, and creating lifelong memories.

She got me. I mean really understood some of my ticks that no one I had ever met could possibly empathize with. She had felt some of the pain that I had growing up. We shared similar experiences. We were both quirky individuals who loved singing Disney songs wile cleaning the bathroom. We would talk until two in the morning some nights. We cried, laughed, worried about the future, and carefully cultivated inside jokes.

I love her. Talking to her was so comfortable. I would spend the day trying so hard to get along with others and strive to be normal. But, when I came home I was able to relax and slip into our warm friendship.

We had adventures! We brought the boys to the yard (the weekend the power went out!) We attended twenty minutes of a football game together with screeching mothers behind us. We played in the rain until every inch of our bodies were dripping. We danced. We sang. She showed me “A Princess Bride”. She supported me through all of my stupid crushes, breakdowns, moments of success, and even my first not-date.

There are so many things I really admire in her. She fights for what she believes in. We used to have the most heated political debates, but five minutes later we could laugh about something stupid that happened earlier in the day. She is so committed. She has a fantastic boyfriend in the Netherlands and it amazes me how they can make that astounding distance work. She laughs easily and keeps life interesting.

We joined clubs together which strengthened our bond. We shared the woes of reading over 100 poems at four in the morning. We could swoon together over our adorable committee chair. And, most importantly we became sisters. Ups and downs were maneuvered with skill. When we needed a break from the crazy world around us all we had to do was grab some Nutella or milkshakes (despite the fact that she is lactose intolerant) and spill our souls.

Although I don’t think she’ll believe me, I miss her. We don’t live together this semester, but I think it makes our time together more special. I hope we’ll always stay friends; we both need that comfortable, familiar outlet to let loose.


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