If you have friends like the ones I have, then you are one lucky person.
I’m talking about friends who will pick you up when you’re stuck at home in the rain with only a bike to get you around. I’m also talking about friends with whom you can have a philosophical conversation on the psychology of social relations while massacring wave after wave of alien invaders on the television screen in front of you. I’m talking about friends who are artists, rhetors, future politicians, athletes, or just downright cool.
Friend who are foodies, friends who would rather have a Big Mac than a peppercorn-encrusted New York strip steak with a red wine reduction; friends who enjoy cooking with you and friends who just like to eat the food you make.
Moreover, I’ve got friends who I not only appreciate but who appreciate me, so much so that on a rare occasion they will buy you an ice cream maker–because they remember talking with you about it a few months back–to say ”thanks.”
For that, I’m one lucky guy.
Either that, or they all like me for the free food they get when they’re with me. I try not to think about that one, though.