The Secret Language of Boos

I notice it most on the rare occasions where T and I are hanging out with a larger-than-normal group of people (and by our standards, “larger-than-normal” really just means it’s not just me and her romantically day-drinking Bloody Marys in the middle of a sunny weekday afternoon): someone will say something that is immediately found mildly scandalous by no one else but ourselves and, like some kind of invisible, inner magnetic reaction, our eyes will slowly shift focus and meet for the briefest of seconds. She’ll subtly twitch her lips, I’ll arch one of my bush-man eyebrows by half a centimeter. And in that second, we’ll have had an entire conversation that goes a little something like this:

Her: Dude.
Me: Yup.
Her: WHAT THE FUCK.
Me: YUUUUUP.
Her: That was some fucking bullshit.
Me: I know, I kind of want to say something but I feel like that would just start shit.
Her: Yeah, we probably shouldn’t. We don’t wanna burn any bridges.
Me: But, at the same time….LET ‘EM BUUUUURN!

Our friendship – and I think pretty much every best friendship – is full of these little moments of secret communication. From the various and multifaceted non-verbal cues that allow us to rail against the asshole clipping his toenails right across from us on the bus (WHY WOULD YOU DO THIS? WHY?), to the uncountable inside jokes that probably make us kind of obnoxious and annoying (but ADORABLE!) to hang out with, T and I have come to speak almost exclusively in our own ever-evolving code. A code in which:

We refer to ourselves in the first-person plural.

We don’t want to burn any bridges. Are we hungry? (Yes. Yes we are.) How do we feel about this candle with the suspicious smell? Because we are one, you guys – our love has become full-blown Aristotle that one time when he said that shit about a single soul dwelling in two bodies, or whatever the crap. We can’t go more than a week without seeing each other because then we’re just walking around with this scary phantom-limb kind of feeling, and we absolutely take to heart (with violent, merciless tenacity) the sentiment that if you hurt one of us, you hurt both of us. Whatever happens to your boo, happens to you.

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We love boba, yes we do! We love boba, how ’bout you?!

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