For Reasons

The other day my roommate Megan (who I love and is the bright spot in the aforementioned desperate loneliness) blogged about things she hated and why.  While I agree with some of the things she said (I think roses are overdone too) orange is one of my most favorite colors.  In fact, I have a bright orange t-shirt that I wear about once a week.  It's not that flashy neon orange that's all over Claire's and Forever 21 right now, just a solid bright traffic cone orange shirt. And I love it.

After reading Megan's post I thought about getting offended for approximately half a second, but then I didn't.  You see, Megan is a great human.  She's a nice, quirky girl with opinions and feelings just like everyone else.  Megan just happens to hate orange. And I love orange.  And I love that shirt.  But she wasn't directly attacking it.

Just like I'm not attacking her when I say I hate skinny jeans in all colors on every person no matter their body type or leg length or gender.  Just, no.  Skinny jeans are SO awful in my opinion.  Megan loves skinny jeans.  To her, they are comfy and cute.

JUXTAPOSITION!!!

And that's what this friendship is.  I've been in friendships in the past (many) where I felt the need to like or dislike whatever my friends liked or disliked (I acknowledge this is mostly in my fault).  Oh, your favorite color is fuchsia?  Mine too.  You hate flip-flops?  Same with me. (Both of those are OBVIOUSLY hypothetical examples).  With Megan, though, it's ok that I like orange and she likes skinny jeans and she likes records and I like pop radio and she likes mustaches and I feel kind of pissed that the hipsters have made them so popular because what's the big deal with a hairy lip anyway.  We're insanely different, but we make it work.  And it's nice.