Friendship

Summary

The author describes meeting a close friend for the first time, a fellow Medium writer named Harry Hogg, whose writing they deeply admire, and the experience of forming a unique friendship through words.

Abstract

The author expresses a mix of nervousness and excitement about meeting Harry Hogg, a writer whose work they have come to cherish. Despite never having met in person, the author feels a deep connection with Harry, having shared his stories with friends and family and developed an intimate understanding of his character through his writing. They meet at a pub in Petaluma, recognizing each other by a Tilly hat and a mask, and quickly bond over shared interests and mutual respect for each other's writing. The author reflects on the nature of their friendship, which was born on Medium and nurtured through words, emphasizing the value of a relationship free from expectations beyond mutual friendship. The day spent together confirms the author's positive impression of Harry, reinforcing the unique bond they share.

Opinions

The author highly regards Harry's writing skills, considering his stories to be captivating and emotionally impactful.
The friendship is portrayed as genuine and valuable, with the author expressing a strong sense of knowing Harry deeply despite the lack of physical meetings.
There is an appreciation for the rarity and special nature of a friendship that develops purely from shared writing and reading on a platform like Medium.
The author places significant importance on friendship that is based on who a person is rather than what they can offer, highlighting the absence of ulterior motives in their relationship with Harry.
The in-person meeting exceeds the author's expectations, with Harry's real-life persona matching the uniqueness and authenticity conveyed in his stories.
The author seems to value storytelling as a means of connection, as evidenced by their emotional response to Harry's stories and their own storytelling about their meeting.

Friendship

No strings attached.

I will admit, I’m a bit nervous. I’m meeting a friend today whom I’ve never met.

Ok, you ask. A friend you’ve never met?

Yep, I’ve never met the man, yet he is a dear close friend. Someone I know very well. Someone who I know will be a trusted friend for a long time.

I give up, do tell.

My friend is a fellow writer on Medium whose stories have held me captive for quite some time. I’ve read his stories aloud to friends and family, often bringing tears to their eyes or joyous laughter that fills the room. Stories so well written I shake my head wondering how he does it. He pours his heart and soul into each account. Some are sprinkled with sarcasm, others with blinding truth and sadness. I’ve come to know him as if we’ve been drinking buddies since high school.

We happen to live in the same area. We also follow each other on Medium. It seemed like the right thing to do. You only live once.

He told me he’d be wearing a Tilly hat. I spy him crossing the street to meet me at McNears Pub in Petaluma, which doesn’t open until three pm. It’s now two pm, and they are closed. Damn the Coronavirus hours.

As he dons his mask, I shout nervously, “Harry!”

With a tilt of his head, he beams a knowing smile my way. I quickly whisk him off to a nearby restaurant.

A true friend is one in which there are no expectations. I like you for who you are and nothing else. I don’t want anything else from you other than your friendship.

I have many, many friends, some since grade school, yet none of these kinships were born as this one, hatched from a writer’s website and raised on words alone.

I know you, Harry Hogg. I know you.

We smile and tell stories to one another, finishing each other’s sentences, laughing at the same quips, as if long-lost pals. My impression of you is better now than I had hoped. You are as unique in person as you are in your fabulous stories.

The day has flown past, and here I sit, writing to the world (or the five people who may read this story) about my new friend. My new friend Harry Hogg.