Cause that's what mens do

I lost my ring. Shannon is clutching her pinky finger and looking around the floor as scene kids with striped t-shirts and tattooed sleeves dance to a house mix around us. I get down on my knees and light the carpet with my cell phone, Amanda takes a sip of her drink and raises a fist in the air pumping it to the beat. We find it and go back to dancing in the dark. You can't plan nights like this, they just kind of happen. I went from being lectured at my kitchen table, to the wooden floor of shannon's bedroom watching them play donkey kong, to the front porch smoke rising into the tallahassee night, and then some how at the neighbors house dancing with a bunch of strangers tied together by small town coincidence. Soulja boy and ratatat. Whiskey and humidity. Laugher and understanding. I kept drinking and we all kept giggling. Shannon and I ended the night on the couch passed out in our clothes sometime around 5. Maybe it was the reexamination of the concept of friendship that did it to me, but it all just seemed so simple. Friends are just there. There isn't a list of requirements to be one. There are no prerequisites. They lay on the floor and listen to you when you need to say they things you are thinking. The things you don't want anyone else to know. They let you rate boy's ex-girlfriends on a fujita scale of indifference. I gave that girl a 3, she said it was more like a 2 and a half. But in the end, friends are just there. And mine are awesome.