I am an extrovert. I know, I know, try to control your shock.

This morning I was thinking about how much I want to fulfill my dream of driving cross-country in an RV with seven other people. Why seven others? You need eight so you can stop at campgrounds and have euchre tournaments. Also, if you have a big group it means you are less likely to be the one attacked by a bear.

I want to pack board games, coolers full of beer and delicious food, good music, lawn chairs and sleeping bags. I want to canoe down the Colorado River, drive up the coast of California, and stop – I don’t know where – to get one of those Wall Drug bumper stickers, because I think that’s mandatory for cross-country roadtrippers.

And, I want to drag a group of people along with me.

I find comfort and safety in numbers. I like having someone to talk to, and if you want to talk and I don’t there are plenty of other people around who can listen to you. This is not me being rude, this is me being sensible.

Also, I will inevitably get injured and the group would be able to take turns caring for me so that the trip isn’t ruined for everyone all at once You’re welcome. Laughs! Memories! Concussions!

I want this trip so bad that I told my 14 year old daughter to fulfill the dream for me if something happens and I can’t do it. She’s an introvert, so it’s pretty much her dream too. Anyway, I think introversion can be remedied with a lot of chocolate, so I’m doing her a favor. I’m not saying that introverts need to be “remedied” though, because that would be rude.

Some people may think I’m crazy and other than the three people in my family who would be forced to join me, I may be hard-pressed to find four other people who would enjoy singing camp songs somewhere on the back roads of Oklahoma. Actually, we’d probably do musical theater, because Oklahoma. Duh.

So, if someday you see me traveling down the highway with eight people and a dog in a crowded RV, give me a thumbs up, because it’s exactly where I want to be. In the meantime, I’ll be sitting here all alone planning the trip.

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Yesterday I read another sad story about a 12 year old girl who committed suicide after being bullied on social media. My heart broke. Again. This is my bullying story:

Just after I turned seven, my mom remarried and we moved from our two-bedroom townhouse to an affluent suburb. I started 2nd grade with a classroom of children I had never met.

I remember one boy being a playground bully – picking girls up while forcing his friend to lift up their skirts. We ladies learned to wear clothing with legs and those two boys didn’t come back for 3rd grade. And, I recall someone making fun of me when I first came to school with glasses. The teacher overheard, made him apologize, and that was it.

I don’t remember ever being bullied after that.

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Though we didn’t have social media, there were still ample opportunities – and ammunition – for kids to pick on me, especially in my teen years. When my mom and step-dad divorced in 1985, we moved back to a two-bedroom townhouse. My friends lived in enormous homes and drove expensive cars, while I arrived at school in a ’77 Cutlass which would eject the tape cassette and launch it into the back seat if you went over 55mph.

Because of the divorce, I had to live with my older sister for my junior year of high school. I was extremely depressed and scared. In turn, I made a lot of horrendously bad decisions. Note to my daughter: THIS is why you get lectured so much. Because I was a stupid teenager. You’re welcome.

My senior year, I dated a man who was controlling, manipulative, and abusive. My friends didn’t call me dirty names, though. They gently tried to steer me in the right direction. No one made fun of me. They could have turned their backs on me, but no one did.

No one ever said anything about our tiny apartment with no air conditioning. No one ever called me poor because I had to go to work every afternoon after school. No one ever hurt my feelings or made me fell less-than.

I don’t know how to make these sad stories stop, but I know that not every school is full of bullies. My high school was full of the richest kids in town who didn’t want for anything. They weren’t snobs. They were awesome.

Maybe we should share more GOOD stories about the GOOD kids who are there to hold up people like me; a lost, frightened girl who had to grow up too fast. I can honestly say that I wouldn’t have survived those years without that support. I would not have survived.

Let’s make the stories of strength and friendship go viral. Let’s make sure that the kids who do the right thing are celebrated and that the ones who don’t, aren’t. We can’t stop telling the tales of those who were bullied, but we can start sharing more stories about the ones who weren’t.

What do you say? Are you with me?

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This is Tom.

I realize this photo is blurry, but Tom wouldn’t stay still.

This is also Tom…

…in white jeans, a wig, and faux-fur vest. I have no explanation for this.

Tom has been a friend of ours since our daughters were in kindergarten. He is a father of two, he is obsessed with his meat smoker, he’s Italian, and he’s a pain in my butt. Every time I see him he tells me he “wants to be on my blog.” So, here you go, Tom. You’ve officially made it!

But, this post isn’t just about him; it is a sweeping generalization of what it takes to be, what I consider, a good friend. Tom fits the bill, would you? If so, call me. Also, pick up a pizza on your way over.

1. There must be no pretense. The best thing a person can bring to a friendship is their authentic self. Period.

2. I like a good story-teller and the more humorous the story, the better. No pressure.

3. You should not be easily offended. For instance, if you display any of #1 by telling me about your new car, you should be able to take the teasing I will dish out because you have two kids and two dogs and you bought a two-door car. *cough* Tom. *cough*

4. Beer-drinking is a plus. Throwing parties with the request that each person bring a signature cocktail is a triple plus bonus!

5. You have to be willing to come pick me up on the side of a road in the middle of the night if my car breaks down. Because I would do the same for you. Or your kids, or your grandma. Tom probably wouldn’t do this, but his wife would, so he is awarded #5 by proxy.

6. If my kids are doing something wrong, I expect a good friend to pull them aside and tell them to knock it off…and why. It takes a village, people. It takes a village.

7. You should appreciate a good inside joke. For instance: Tom, the vest was awesome, but you should have worn the bike shorts.

8. Be willing to embarrass yourself for the friendship’s greater good. See above photo for proof.

9. Own pets. Most of my good friends are pet-owners. Only a couple of them have cats, so pretty much just dog-people. Pet owners have good souls and dog-people get bonus points, because duh. Dogs.

10. Understand that I’m a busy woman so writing one blog post about you is doable, but two would be pushing it. Though if there’s more of #4, we’ll talk.

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