There Are A Million Ways to Say “I Love You”

Prank Calls, Mammograms, and Klondike Bars

Hi Sweet Community,

I am writing this from the mammogram waiting room. One of my best friends found a lump in her breast. I say one of my best friends because I have four best friends and if I ever simply say “my best friend” one of my other best friends will roll over in her grave—though all of my best friends are alive. It’s a simple sentence, but it is also a prayer—All of my best friends are alive.

My friend, who I am here with, lost her father to cancer last month. I loved her father. I love her father. When I was 23 and newly out of the closet, he ran out of the grocery store with a rainbow-sized smile on his face, waving a Klondike bar in the air. “Get it?!” he yelled. “It’s a KlonDYKE bar!” There are a million ways to say I love you. That was one of my favorites. 

For the last two decades my friend’s father refused to call me by name. “How’s my favorite poet doing today?” “Hi, my favorite poet!” “What’s going on, my favorite poet?” Listen to this prayer—I was the favorite poet of a Louisiana Republican. I sometimes wonder if he’s found a new favorite poet in the afterlife, but I doubt he has. I imagine he’s enjoying my poetry much more now that he’s a comet and not a Republican. 

Before the nurse called my friend’s name to begin her mammogram, I threw my arms around her and wept the worry out of my chest. Whenever I want a feeling to move, I cry it out. Because my friend was once my ex-girlfriend she’s responsible for more than a few of my life’s tears. Though most of them have thankfully come from laughter. 

My friend has many talents, but the one I appreciate the most is her prank call skillset. When we were young she’d regularly call Old Navy (the store) and inquire about how to enlist. “Ma’am! Ma’am! How many times do I have to tell you we are not the U.S Navy!” After that, she’d call every wedding caterer in town asking if they’d be willing to organize the wedding menu around vienna sausages. “The little weiners in the tiny tin can? I just love ‘em! I’d like the little weiners to be the appetizer, the main course, and dessert. Can you make that happen?” More than a few said yes. 

My friend and I were in our early 20s and working together delivering the USA Today while we were breaking up. “How are things going with your new girlfriend?” I asked one morning as we drove sleep-eyed through the predawn darkness. “Pretty good,” she said. “That’s great,” I replied, then rolled down the window and chucked 56 newspapers into a snowbank. I’m not proud that I did that. But there are a million ways to say I love you and that, unfortunately, was one. 

…

My friend returned from the mammogram room with a smile on her face big as a rainbow and the news that she is cancer free! To celebrate, we drove around town in her father’s pick-up truck listening to the song we played on repeat when we first met 25 years ago––singing with all of our lung power. That, too––a kind of prayer. If you’d like to follow or support the work she does, check out A Queer Endeavor, of which she is the founder. We’ve both come a long way in twenty years! 

Love, Andrea 🖤 (A Comet’s Favorite Poet)

PS. If you leave your prank call ideas in the comments, I’ll be sure to share some videos of her doing her thing in a future newsletter. I promise, you won’t want to miss it. 

News & Updates:

△ Recently I had the gift of returning to the ‘We Can Do Hard Things’ podcast, this time with my partner, Meg. On this ‘Double Date’ episode with Glennon and Abby, I share an update on my health, how I decided to do my current cancer treatment and what it’s been like to navigate this diagnosis as a couple. I also tell the bizarre story of how Meg and I began dating, and we both share a love poem. Listen to the episode

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