The importance of friends abroad




Well last weekend got of to a bad start. Why last weekend and not this weekend? Because I'm lazy, that’s why. Disgustingly lazy.
So I had woken up on Saturday, around 13.00 with a refreshingly mild hangover -I had expected quite a bit worse.
I had only water to drink and was pretty hungry. Usually I stop in the 24 hour Subway, get a 30cm sub and, in one foul swoop, I take care of my drunken hunger and my morning/midday breakfast. This time, however, I managed to drop my breakfast half of the Sub on the floor, right in the snow. I dusted it off and thought I could wrap it up, but my friend convinced me that it as a bad idea. He was probably right.

So there I was, with no food and just some plain, non sugary, non satisfying water to suck on. The fridge was empty too and my only choice of breakfast was jam. No jam and toast, no jam on a finely buttered croissant, just plain jam – on the spoon, right into my mouth.
It was what I imagined a drug addicts breakfast to be like. I wonder just how many jam-to-mouth breakfasts had served as rock bottom for so many addict?

                       can’t keep doing this shit man

The other reason that the night wasn’t so great is that my friend told me he was going to be leaving the motherland in about 2 months, which is what got me thinking about the importance of friends abroad. A person should always have a couple of reliable, decent friends wherever they are, but it can be hard enough finding them in your own country, let alone here. I’ve lost track of all the weird, strange twisted expats I've met here.

The problem find is that people never stay, it’s like I'm the last one left - the last crazed barnacle welded to mother Russia’s revolutionary teet. They come for a year and leave, maybe stay and work for a year and leave, but the end result is the same and the whole friend cycle starts again. And here I am, in the middle of the cycle, again. I think eventually, if Moscow doesn’t kill me (which it will, obviously), then I’ll end up  loosing my mind faster than a stripper gliding down a pole lubed with tears.


                                 Exactly 

I do have one other good friend left from the ‘old days’, but the problem is, he’s a hermit who almost always refuses to travel to any metro station that is off his line. Let me tell you, it has to be some pretty special occasion to get his ass of that light-green line. So while there is always skype and facebook, you miss out on the social element.  I'm just glad I have a group of good people to go out with on Friday or Saturday night to party with and have a good time. There really is nothing worse than staying in alone on a Friday or Saturday because there is nobody decent to hang with.
And girlfriends don’t cut it either. Even when I was living with my ex there was still a part of me that missed proper male interaction. Girlfriends just don’t appreciate the dead hooker jokes like the guys do.

But that’s life. My next goal entails focusing on not becoming that guy at the bar who is always on his own, starved for attention and just looking for any excuse to latch on to someone, anyone, for that precious human contact. I see those guys all the time, just waiting to suck you in with their tractor beam of loneliness and depression.

Now if you’ll excuse me, I have a pot of jam with my name on it...


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1 comments:

Lt. Columbo on June 10, 2012 at 11:07 PM said...

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