This is Sam.
As you can tell, she is both my best friend and the bane of my existence. I’d probably marry her if she didn’t raise my blood pressure so much.
Ours is a friendship buried deep into the past. All the way back to freshman year. The first semester of school, I walked into a local bar on a thirsty Thursday night (R.I.P. Oliver’s) and within ten minutes I came to find that the girl I had religion and Spanish class with every morning was passed out in the bathroom. And the cops has just started raiding the bar.
About an hour later, and with the aide of 5 girls carrying her limp body through the backdoor of the bar, myself, my roommates, and a passed-out Samantha made our way to the hospital. Shockingly, we’ve been inseparable ever since.
5 years later we’re closer than ever – both in friendship and physically – since she now lives in my house, right downstairs from me. And we have yet to kill each other.
How have we managed to dwell in the same abode without us – actually, just me, strangling her?
Well, it’s been an adjustment. And DEFINITELY a learning process. But the following are the ways to help you cope and cohabitate with your best friend:
1. Expect the Unexpected. (The Unexpected Being Nudity)
As I sat down with a glass of Pinot & gossiped with a friend downstairs in my basement as we mentally/physically/spiritually prepped for a classy-trashy Saturday night out, my phone screen lit up. Why was Sam calling me, when she was only up the stairs?
“Erin,” Sam responded in a solemn tone, “I need you to come upstairs RIGHT NOW. I have to show you something”.
After apologetically excusing myself from my guest, I climbed the stairs, curious as to what Sam had to show me.
I knocked on her door, and a pair of big blue eyes peeked back out at me from the slight crack in the doorway. “Erin…?” I heard Sam ask. She saw me and opened the door just enough to stick her head out and warn me, “It’s about to GET REAL.”
She finally opened the door enough to let me enter. After shutting the door behind me, she stepped into the middle of the room. It was then that I realized Sam was wearing nothing but a t-shirt & a thong. Fuckin’ A, man.
“OKAY, are you ready?!” said Sam. And before I even had the chance to answer, Sam was moving.
In the same vain of Sir Mix-A-Lot’s famous lyrics, “turn around, stick it out” (“It” being her behind) Sam did just that, and this white girl had to shout, “WHAT THE HELL IS ON YOUR ASS?”
Extending from the tip of her butt all the way to the bottom, was a huge red, scratch. Repeatedly, Sam kept admitting she had no idea where it came from. But that it hurt.
A few weeks later, I’m still unsure why she decided to share the injury with me. Not only was I not very sympathetic, I have absolutely no first-aide knowledge or experience. I’m just going to chalk it up to another, “sharing is caring” idea.
2. Invest in Ear Plugs
Sam sings from the moment she wakes up in the morning, til the moment her head hits the pillow every night. She is not by any means a bad singer, but she is also not Beyonce. Or Adele. Or even Rebecca Black. Either invest in a pair of ear plugs, or learn to sing & dance along.
Or just tap her leg and yell out, “SNOOZE BUTTON”. Really. Try it, it’ll confuse her at least for a half second of quietness.
3. Learn to Laugh at the Awkwardness
Besides sharing a house, bathroom, and train rides, Sam & I also share two very important people: Marian & Michael Maher (My parents, Sam’s “‘rents.” Get it?)
Prior to her moving in, Sam has been on multiple family vacations with us, so my parents obviously adored her already. But it’s a whole new ball game when she moved in. They love having her around, and she’s definitely my mom’s new favorite (sorry, Guinness) That doesn’t mean though, that sometimes a bit of awkwardness doesn’t interject itself into Our home life.
Here, are two of my favorite of conversations that there’s just no other way to categorize as hilarious. Maybe not for Sam, and maybe a little awkward for my parents, but I sure as hell loved it.
a) Sam, in front of my devout, holy, Catholic, & apostolic parents:
“God, I love him so much. I want to make his grandchildren with his son.”
b) Sam, after seeing my dad on the same train as us: “Hey Mr. Maher, wanna come sit with us?”
My dad: “No.”
4) When They Don’t Come Home, Don’t Panic.
Sam’s fourth night in the house she had a work dinner. She, like myself, works in an Irish office, and let’s just say much of the drink is involved in any work affair. Praise the good lord. By 11pm, I still had not heard from her. And every hour on the hour for the next six hours, I called and texted her. At 5 am, around when I had to wake up, my phone pinged and lo-and-behold, my new roommate had just woken up in one of her coworkers houses. Turns out she hit black out city hard, and her coworker was kind enough to let her crash. I attended work the next day sleep deprived and ready to kill Sam. Probably equal or more so than the night we went out in Mahwah.
Since then, there’s just been multiple occasions where Sam doesn’t make it home. Which is quite alright. By ten am the next morning I usually expect her to roll in, minus a cell phone, but in the same clothes as the night before and with a story to tell me. And I’m always well-rested enough to hear it.
5) You’re Going to Fight, Get Over It
“You two fight like an old married couple”, a friend of mine announced one night as Sam and I went back and forth quarreling about something really stupid. Trust me when I say it was really stupid. Just today we argued over how many eyes she has (don’t ask).
At least three times a day, Sam will say my name to say something to me and I just shut her down immediately with a “no”. I kid, but we do often go back and forth at each other. While they may be your best friend, you don’t have to agree with each other on everything. We don’t hold a grudge about anything. Fortunately, Sam & I always put out exactly how we’re feeling and always deal with the issue at hand ASAP. It’s a lot of honesty but we always work through it and get back to talking about important things, like WHEN FOR THE LOVE OF GOD, will the scratch on her ass heal?