I’ve conjured images of our first meeting in my head a thousand times at least. I envisioned running into my soulmateclone’s outstretched arms with tears of joy staining my cheeks as a careful selection of Motley Crüe songs played in the background. I imagined harried travelers pausing to take in the depth of emotion while two women clung to each other as if they’d been separated at birth. Of course my hair was perfect, my makeup flawless and my heels high. But that’s not exactly how it happened.
The morning Heather arrived, I jumped out of bed and into the shower after only five hours of sleep, happy that I’d chosen the Black with Envy polish over Liquid Leather for my toes. There’s a huge difference. Shut up.
It was 8:30 in the morning and already 975 degrees outside with 450 percent humidity in the air. Any attempt to straighten my curly hair would have been futile. I said, “fuck it” and threw on a dress. I ran out of the door wearing sandals and no undies to meet my bff for the very first time.
There she was, my rock star, perfectly put together in her green dress with white polka dots with a bag thrown over her shoulder that I would have mugged an old lady for. She looked around nervously with her phone in her hand as she descended the escalator towards Baggage Claim. I was already standing in front of her with the raw emotion of a schoolgirl crush before she saw me. We hugged, we cried and we hugged some more. Her first words were, “I’m so happy to see you!” Mine were, “I feel so short. I’m not used to feeling short.” And after we put her suitcase in the trunk of my car, she called her mama to let her know that I wasn’t an out of work mall Santa with duct tape and a white van.
We giggled like two teenage girls as we photographed each other’s boobs over breakfast and even more so when we watched an *ahem* erotic video that had been made especially for us. We even received a personalized photo afterwards to mark the special occasion. I’m totally having it made into a magnet for my refrigerator.
Amazing guacamole and two terrible margaritas later, we found ourselves deciding between ruffle panties and schoolgirl skirts in the adult toy store. We took photos with some playthings I’ve added to my wish list and questioned the functionality of others. And as we perused the small but well stocked BDSM section, I reiterated my dislike of ball gags before I realized it was a jawbreaker I was holding in my hand. I’m now reconsidering my stance.
We spent the rest of the night drinking wine from very large glasses and tweeting while watching YouTube videos of our favorite 80’s hair bands. We used the phone as a microphone as we sang Fly to the Angels while drooling over the bare-chested, long-haired men of our past. And we said, “vagina” a lot. We looked at photo after naked photo (you know who you are) on my phone and giggled some more. My kids now have confirmation that something is really wrong with me.
Watching my soulmateclone twirl her hair across the table as she pecks away on her laptop is an amazing sight. Our physical chemistry is just as strong as our verbal chemistry and it’s as if we’ve known each other our entire lives. It just feels right.
Tonight there will be more of the same. We’ll write while sitting next to each other and we’ll bake sweets while wearing aprons and stilettos. There will be booze, foul language and singing. Lots of singing. We might even be naked.