Traveling with pseudo-strangers (on business trips, college-era Thanksgiving ride-shares, awkward carpooling to Marietta, Georgia with the only two other people in your town interested in historic Civil War re-enactments) requires its own set of rules to govern the sharing of a confined space for an extended period of time while keeping awkwardness to a minimum.
Just because you have a vagina, that doesn’t mean you can’t be a dude bro. No one will notice that you have boobs, let alone that you make an effort to wear different pants each day. Pants they don’t want to get into because you are already ensconced within their bro ranks.
T Minus 60 — Look out the widow. See that snow has stopped. Try to convince yourself that not enough has fallen to make shoveling worthwhile and that you can probably drive right through it. Hear neighbor spinning his wheels in the driveway after attempting to do just that.
Seemingly platonic, “Friend” is actually reserved for identification of the most serious of relationships entered into by immediate family members, having possibly first appeared in the parental lexicon as a short form for boyfriend or girlfriend. Its usage can be extended to fiancé/fiancée as well.
That’s how I came to be spending the weekend in a hotel conference room with 25 other aspiring coaches, having my resting facial expression critiqued. Brand new notebook and pen in hand, I had shown up expecting a crash course in psychology, concrete strategies for helping clients set goals, a framework for providing guidance to codify the tough love approach that I already practiced.