Kate and I met a lifetime ago. This was before September 11th, before babies, before night creams and stretched bellies and when dinner plans could be made at the last minute, at 9 pm, and could be enjoyed because no one had to get up the next morning to pack lunch boxes.
We met at dinner. Truth be told, Kate had met The Prince through work in London, and he had told me too many times how much I would love her. Because we shared the same hair. (You have to understand The Prince. He’s actually quite bright.) I did what any sensible person would do when their husband announces they’ve found a new best friend for you – I thought he was nutters and I brushed off the whole deal. Until he came home a month later and told me had made plans for the four of us (Yes, Alpha Male) for dinner. Since The Prince makes plans as often as Hailey’s Comet, this required some attention. I agreed.
We met at a dark restaurant in Southwark, a dark neighborhood on the wrong side of the Thames, which I had already fallen in love with for its twists and turns, and fallen down appearance. I even remember what I was wearing – a leather coat from the 60s I had bought in a flea market in Florence. (Still have it. Still fabulous.)
I walked in, late, met Kate and shockingly The Prince was right. The bond was instantaneous. And we had the same hair. Curly. Corkscrewed. Unruly sometimes. (Hers is better.)
But there was probably more. Maybe our hunt for bargains. Or chatter about having babies one day. Or shared cynical humor. Or the fact we both had roots in California.
And then, The Prince got transferred to New York suddenly. And yet, despite the fact we haven’t been in the same physical space, let alone time zone, except for a brief visit to London seven years ago (when, it must be said, Kate in fine pregnant form stood up to a strange King’s Road bird who tried to pick a fight with her), our friendship has never waivered. Our first babies were even born within months of each other.
Her friendship has meant everything — she never fails to remind me to laugh when I grow dramatic and whingy. (The sign of a great friend.) And she’s even taught me a very important lesson: That despite all signs to the contrary, The Prince can actually be right.