Farewell, Noel
"It's hard to find people who will love you no matter what" - Carrie Bradshaw
I’ve been putting off this blog for two weeks because I don’t know how to start it. This is me freeballing an intro. Keep reading, it’ll get better.
I’m going through a big transition.
I got a new color on my nails last week. Does this sound like a massive life change? No (yes, if you’re a real fan). I’ve been getting OPI’s “Funny Bunny” on my nails since my high school prom (that’s FIVE years of the same nail color), however, last week, I was feeling absolutely fucking unhinged and I told my nail girly, Amy, that it was time… time for a big change. I walked out of that salon feeling like a new woman with my fuchsia nails—it’s the beginning of a new era!
The next piece to my transition puzzle? My silly little termite-infested apartment has been getting aesthetically remodeled (no, this doesn’t include calling maintenance to come fix my broken toilet). I hate to say this is due to a man’s influence, but Leo DiCaprio, who I mentioned in my last blog, has an incredibly adult-y and put-together apartment and it made me look at the “ass fat, brain fatter” sign on my wall and go, hmm, maybe it’s time for an upgrade. In fact, I risked my life for a new coffee table on Monday when I drove to a random person’s apartment at 9:30 at night because their Facebook Marketplace listing said, “$10 off if you pick it up today.” Was that a cerebrally-sound decision? No, but I’m not 25 yet, and therefore, my brain has not fully developed—I have an excuse.
The most important transition? Oh, sweet reader, let me tell you. When I tragically got laid off in November, I said to my best friend, Noel, “Look dude, the universe did this on purpose because it knows you’re moving in the spring and it wants us to have more time to hang out.” Deep down inside of me, I knew I wasn’t going to land a full-time job until she left—I don’t know if this is part of my delusional spirit or if was actually the universe talking to me, but I just felt it. Felt it deep in the depths of my birth canal. But guess what? Guess who got a fucking job? Guess who starts said job next week? Guess who is escaping the embrace of job-induced mental instability and can now afford to buy the occasional top from Zara? THIS BITCH. She’s an employed girly now, sorry for flexing (not!).
As I enter this new stage of my very adult life with my new job, my new outlook on nail polish colors and my slowly transitioning big girl apartment, I feel extremely excited. I’m entering a new era and it’s thrilling and scary, but mostly inspiring, and I am excited to see where it takes me. However, there’s a key piece of my life that will not be with me in this era, and that is Noel.
Noel is moving to Alaska and she left this morning. It sucked. It sucked really fucking bad. I’ll be honest with you—despite my charming personality, great sense of humor and ass that doesn’t quit, I don’t have a massive number of friends. For some reason, it’s hard for me to click with people (this is probably the ‘tism talking) and I find it difficult to meet people who will put up with my cunty oral prose and delusions towards the men I date. But Noel? That bitch listens to all of my silly stories, lets me call her every time a man wrongs me and lets me know when my cunty-ness levels hath risen too high (this is a very important and necessary trait in a best friend. I’m extremely self-aware but I also deserve a break from being on high alert at all times).
Noel has been my best friend for a little over two years now. We became close when she got me my job at the garden shop and the entire summer was spent in a sweaty, dirt-covered haze of backyard concerts, black cherry White Claws and trying to sneak me into bars because I hadn’t turned 21 yet. She was there when I got hired at my first big girl job, when I got CANNED from my first big girl job, during all the tragic dating dilemmas I’ve endured over the past two years and through all the silly feral nights and beach days in-between. I truly don’t know what I’m going to do without her.
I recently saw a poem on TikTok that I must insert into this blog. Normally I don’t like to get too deep on here since I enjoy using comedy as a mask to hide my true feelings and vulnerabilities, however, this feels like the right thing to do.
Signs You’ve Found Your Platonic Soulmate
…You can enjoy comfortable silences together. They’re someone you trust to hold your joy. They’re someone you trust to watch your dog lizard. They’re someone you trust to help you navigate the aftermath of a broken heart. You feel fiercely protective of one another. You recognize their eyes from a past life. You can give them The Look at a party if someone is being sketchy, and they’ll know exactly what you’re saying. They see right through you when you say, “I’m fine!”… They’re one of the first people you want to share your good news with. And your shitty news. And your boring news. Errands are more fun when they’re riding shotgun. You can laugh after a fight. They’re your outfit approver, text ghostwriter and hype person. You can talk about the heavy things and the lighter things in a single conversation. Time passes, things change, but your love for each other only grows stronger.
Every time I read this, it makes me cry. I’m actually crying right now and it feels incredibly gay, and I’m not just saying that because Noel and I often looked like a lesbian couple at the bar (when you see two girls wearing overalls and mom jeans get into a Subaru Outback, these thoughts just enter your head). It’s okay for me to say gay in this sense because for a short three months during my sophomore year of high school, I fully identified as bisexual (turns out, I just had a really big friend crush on my friend, Ella, and that translated to “big fat lesbian crush” in my head). I promise I am an ally.
The truth is, I’ve never met anyone like Noel. She’s so effortlessly cool and unapologetically herself. She has traits that I wish I had and probably never will have, like her free spirit, the fact that she never gives a fuck about what anyone thinks and her ability to camp out of her car in the woods for a week straight and find some morsel of fun in it. She lights up every room she enters and I’m not the only one who sees it—everyone around her admires her too. She complements me in every way imaginable and I couldn’t imagine my life without her. We just click, I can’t explain it. I never thought I would ever find someone who I connect with on this level or someone who I could share my deepest, most embarrassing secrets with, but I did, and it’s Noel.
This past week Noel and I got to do all of our favorite things together—going to the beach, getting drinkies, making fun of men at the bar, eating ice cream and gossiping (my love language is talking shit about the people I hate with the people I love, and Noel completely fulfills my emotional and mental needs in that realm). It was truly the most fun of weeks, similar to when you know you have to put your dog down so you take it to McDonald’s for an ice cream cone and one last joy ride right before euthanizing it.
The positive of Noel moving is that I inherited her crested gecko, who I recently renamed Michael. I have fallen deeply in love with Michael. Every time she looks at me with her beady little lizard eyeballs and licks my fingers with her tiny little lizard tongue, I get a weird twinge in my abdomen that I can only imagine is my ovaries sending signals to my brain that I am producing the love only a mother can. Except I’m not Michael’s mother—I’m her auntie, which is even better. This situation feels like that iconic movie trope where the mother dies and the aunt is forced to take in the 8-year-old kid who she struggles to bond with until the end of the movie when they become best friends and the aunt realizes the kid is the most special piece of herself the mother could have ever left behind. Michael and I’s relationship is that of No Reservations, minus the hot chef. (Michael pictured below)
It is now time for me to pop an Advil PM, tuck Michael into bed with me and knock the fuck out because I have had an extremely emotionally-taxing weekend. It’s been a weird month, hence my lack of blogging, however, due to my recent loss of best friendage plus my recent full-time employment offer, I will have more time to write and do the required fieldwork (go on dates with heinous men). Please stay tuned for more content (that isn’t incredibly sappy and depressing like this) in the coming weeks.
Hug your friends!
Forever your girl,
Louise