So I read this article. And because it doesn't fit quite to a T, I thought I'd write my own thank you letter, just to show you how much I truly appreciate(d) you. Katie's right; it's time to thank my first roommate.
I have good luck with Sarahs. And you're the reason why. Also, maybe because I always wished my name was Sarah (hello have you seen Hocus Pocus; Sarah Sanderson-- AKA Sarah Jessica Parker-- was who I aspired to be), but I digress.
So my current roommate's name is Sarah, too, just a fun fact. But either way, I still think you're the reason I have good luck with Sarahs.
So I didn't really start to connect with Katie's article, until I got to the point where she says, "Late night talks were never more real." The first part of her article talks about how you connect via Facebook or email or something, and how you experience all the "firsts" together, and how your roommate's your first real "college friend" thing.
That doesn't apply to us, mostly because I'd initially been assigned a roommate who I attempted to connect with, who informed me she would no longer be attending Wesleyan. Then I thought I had my own room...until one day I walked in, saw all your shit, a note on my bed, and panicked.
I vividly remember the first thing you said to me. We had a meeting for the entire dorm building in the lobby of it, and I saw you stick your head around the corner of the archway. I remember thinking, "God I hope that's not my roommate." Because your short haircut scared me, because I was pathetic and uncultured and an awful human being.
But after that meeting, I went back to my room, and you met me there. And the first thing you said to me was, "I'm not gay. That's my black boyfriend." As you pointed to a newspaper clipping cutout on the wall above your bed, of a stupid basketball article about him.
I instantly loved you.
You weren't my first friend at Wesleyan. Or even my second. Shit, I made friends with the entire softball team before I even met you. (Sorry). First friend will always be Sammi, second Samantha (shouts out cuz y'all rock), BUT you were still one of the best.
Don't ever doubt that.
So, like I said, when I read this article...I didn't really relate until she mentioned late night talks. So the things I remember most about you, are those late night talks.
When you'd come in at like 2 AM, and I'd be wide awake (because since when have I ever NOT been an insomniac) and you'd talk my ear off until you passed out midsentence. It didn't matter if we were talking about M & M *names redacted to protect our integrity*, or how our parents treated us growing up. We were always open, always honest, and you became one of my best friends.
I remember our door didn't shut. So at 5 AM, when you'd barely had 3 hours of sleep, I'd remember you rolling out of bed and slamming the door so it'd shut, on your way to PT. Of course, I'd only just gone to bed, so when I woke up to it I was always slightly angry. However, I'd (usually) taken Nyquil by that point and could easily fall back asleep.
I also remember being in constant communication via text or phone call. And I'd get us donuts at Dunkin before my 9 AM, so that when you came back from PT you'd have something to eat.
And I remember, at the end of our time together at Wesleyan, taking a picture of your ass while you hung out the window of our dorm room, yelling down to our friends on the softball team below. And then me shamelessly exploiting your ass on my Instagram captioning, "Don't fall. #missmyroommate."
You started out being completely different from me, in word, act and feeling. But I think that by the end, I realized that wasn't entirely true. You and I were so similarly-scary-alike I didn't know what to do with myself. I still miss you to this day.
I know from social media that you have a son now, and you're happy. And we reconnect every once and a while. And I know that I managed to stay closer to other friends from Wesleyan than I did with you, and for that I am sorry. However, I think Katie's right when she says that your first college roommate is a friend you can rely on for life.
I might not reach out to you immediately in crisis, or anything...but I still know that if I ever needed you, you'd be there. In the end, I think that's what an adult friendship is all about. And I'm so lucky to have you in my life...even if it's in the "peripheral." It doesn't mean I place any less value on the time and space we spent together in our little cement block (or prison yard...seriously I hope Wesleyan's updated/renovated that building by now).
Either way, just know that I'm grateful for you. Every single little thing you've ever done for me. And that if you ever need me, I'd happily be here. I think that's the most I can ask for in a friend.
