Birthday Boy B.

Today is B’s Brithday. B is one of my bestest friends. We met in my fourth semester of uni, mere days after I’d decided I was going to knuckle down and study instead of making friends. The first night we met, B walked me across the bridge I travelled to get home, and then we sat talking for two hours.

We spent two years almost completely inseparable—grouping up for assignments, spending weekends lounging on the couch watching movies, and even working together. And laughing! Sooo much laughter. But it wasn’t all fun and games. B also talked me down from bad moods, helped me out when I needed advice, and offered sanctuary when I couldn’t face the tornado of grossness that was my housemate at the time. In return, I cooked him real food, listened to his boy troubles, and dragged myself out of bed at two am to rescue him from the clubs.

A few years ago B met the love of his life and was promptly dragged away from me, moving to rural New South Wales to be with his man. We keep in touch (less regularly than we shoud), and also see each other a couple times a year. But I miss him, and often find myself thinking of him when something funny happens that only he and I would laugh at.

I would normally adorn this post with a picture of the Birthday Boy, but B’s not such a fan of being splashed all over the internet. So, instead, here’s a song from one of B’s favourite artists, in honour of his birthday.

Happy Birthday, Baby!

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