Call from a tent

T called me on Friday night.

One year ago he and I had chatted the night before he biked the MS150. He and Lex (short for lesbian ex-girlfriend) had broken up less earlier that month and I was being his best friend--just as I had been since Lex had moved to Ohio for the summer. I discovered he'd never camped out and I think even offered to help him gain those experiences. We laughed about what a true survival test for Boy Scouts in urban Chicago would be. He called me the next night as well--even though he had to try for hours to get signal in that rural area with so many bikers on cell phones. I still have the message he left me on my voicemail.

So he called me the night before the MS150 again this year--telling me it would be his first night sleeping in a tent. I commented that I'll bet it would more fun with company (me! me!) and he said he'd just been thinking the same thing. We talked some more and then he had to get some sleep before the ride on Saturday and I had to pack for my weekend in northern Colorado.

It is calls like that which make me feel like I'm his girlfriend.