When Friends Are The Love Story
When I applied to grad school at USC, I submitted my application at 11:59 p.m. the night it was due, definitely with typos, definitely not expecting to get in.
Then, I did. I remember opening the letter and running circles around my kitchen table, a folding table with a Target table cloth. I was so embarrassed by that table.
Receiving the acceptance letter was one of the most thrilling moments of my life. I remember being both happy and sad — I wished I had parents to call. Parents who would be proud of me.
Instead, I messaged my friend Kevin, who I met at The Groundlings. He was one of the first people to tell me I was a good writer - and this was after I wrote a sketch where the main character had dicks for hands.
When I went to USC, I felt like an imposter. I was shy and convinced I didn’t belong. Everyone was smart and talented and young. I felt old. I was 28.
Everyone seemed to have their shit together in a way I didn’t. People like Laura.
I don’t remember the first time I met Laura, but I can tell you she was on time and put together and prepared. This is who she is. The opposite of me.
She is one of the best, most loyal, and thoughtful friends I’ve ever had. I have tears streaming down my face as I write this, because I really do feel so loved by her.
Laura is the friend who thinks of things before you do, who wants you to feel included and cared for and loved. Even though she is busy, always so busy — she takes the time.
I often tell my students at USC, where I am somehow a professor now, that time is our greatest currency. If someone gives you their time, it’s everything.
Time is everything.
Laura has gone out of her way for me too many times to count, too many times to put in one essay, so I will tell you about last night. The night before Thanksgiving.
Laura loves Friends. Loves it. Has the DVD collection, a sweatshirt, probably other memorabilia I am unaware of.
When she invited me to join her for a “Friends” giving, a marathon of Friends Thanksgiving episodes on a rooftop downtown, I said yes. She offered to pay for it, as a little treat.
I knew what Laura was doing. Yes, she was going to enjoy her Friends marathon, which I’m sure she does weekly anyway, but she was making me feel less alone during a time of year I often dread.
I write a lot about wanting to find romantic love and build a home with someone. I rarely talk about the home I already have with my friends.
No, we don’t live together, though I “joke” about it to Laura and her wonderful husband. It may be the only way any of us will be able to afford an actual house in LA. Myself and our other friend - who also has her shit together in a way I never will - can live in one wing, and Laura and her husband on the other. We’ll have a pool and a pizza oven and excellent lighting. This is the home I share with them already, in my heart.
If you are a mess, it is important to surround yourself with people who are not. It’s important to have friends who say, “You’re not a mess, you’re just going through a hard time!” When the hard time comes and stays for much longer than expected, they treat you to a night on a rooftop downtown.
When you experience an unexpected break up in the wee hours of the morning, they send a Lyft to pick you up from a random Brooklyn hotel room, and take you on a walk through the city, where you somehow find yourself in front of the Friends cafe. (By “somehow,” I mean Laura knew it was in the area and her husband used a map.)
I don’t think it’s a mistake that Laura was in New York or at USC or that we first kept our friendship alive by forming a writer’s group that met weekly, often at my embarrassing little card table while my sister, who was living with me, sat nearby, randomly shouting, “No!” - unintentionally preparing us for our careers in screenwriting.
There are moments when I wish I had parents to call, but I have friends who will answer. They are my love story. Perhaps the greatest one of all.
I sent this to Laura to make sure I didn’t say anything weird, and here’s what she said:
“Watching Friends growing up taught me that friends can be family and you have made that come true.” - Laura Bensick
I love this