It's not delivery, It's Digiorno!

I think everyone one has, at one point in their life, met someone they have an undeniable connection with. Someone who immediately understands you, makes you feel exceptionally comfortable, and makes you wonder how you ever got through life without them.

Pearl and I must have been married in a past life. We knew each other inside and out, before we knew each others last names. He almost instantly became one of the best guy friends I've ever had. I called him when I needed advice, a shoulder to cry on, or when I had great news because I knew there was no one else that would be as excited for me as he would. He, however, wanted more than I was ready to give. He basically had our entire lives planned out, including what we would name our first born, where we would live, and how he would he would wake up every morning proud to be my man.

Pearl was a chef. An amazing chef. He was so worldly, knew of cultures that I had never heard of, always treated me with the utmost respect, and honestly, to this day, I haven't met anyone quite like him. After college, I moved from the city back to San Jose. Our friendship/relationship changed drastically. We rarely saw each other, but we spoke to each other almost every night. As time went by, the nightly phone calls turned into yearly check-ins.

The last time I spoke with Pearl, he told me of the amazing new restaurant he was working at. He invited my girls and I up for dinner. I was excited to see him. I gathered my two closest friends and drove an hour, in the rain, to see him. We sat at the bar, and as luck would have it, we sat next to the executive chef, who was enjoying a beer. For whatever reason, chefs love me. It could be that they're passionate about cooking and they can instantly tell that I'm very passionate about eating - its love at first sight, more often than not.

The executive chef instantly fell for my charm. He spoiled us with the best things at the restaurant and endless drinks, all the while, Pearl kept an eye on me from afar. By the time the restaurant closed, the executive chef, Pearl, the sous chef, and us 3 girls remained. We decided to move our party to a bar around the corner. After a few more drinks, the girls and I decide that we're hungry. Again (don't judge me, I'm really good at eating). Good thing we were surrounded by 3 chefs.

You'd think that the executive chef, at a 5 star restaurant, would have a fridge stocked with things us mere peasants could only dream of. But no. He pulled out a frozen pizza. Digiorno. We watched tv, sat around talking, and before we knew it, it was 4 am. Thankfully, the rain had let up, so I rounded the girls up to go home. The guys drove us back to where I had parked my car, only to see that the garage was closed, the gate was locked, and we were stuck.

3 girls, 3 boys, this was a recipie for disaster. The executive chef insisted that we stay at his place while we wait for the garage to open. My friends and I made a pact; we would all sleep next to each other, arm in arm, so that if anyone were to even breathe on one of us, we could attack, fight to the death, and hopefully make it out alive. I knew that Pearl would never get me into a sticky situation, and after talking to him about it, he reassured me that we'd be fine. He'd stay up just to make sure we were safe.

Pearl and I spent the next few hours, waiting for the sun to rise and catching up on all that had changed since the last time we had seen each other. Those few hours only felt like minutes and before we knew it, the sun was shining, and it was time for us to leave. I wake the girls and we begin what ends up being the longest walk of shame ever.

Walk of Shame (n): When you leave someone's house with the same clothes you had on the night before.

We didn't want to wake the other chefs, so we had to walk about a mile in our cute outfits and heels to the parking garage. We giggled the entire way, making fun of ourselves during what probably looked like, to others, as a walk of shame. Little did they know that all we did last night was eat 5-star Digiorno pizza.

We finally make it to the garage. We're exhausted, cold and ready to get into the car to make the dive home. But of course ... the garage was still closed. I called Pearl repeaditly but he never answered. The man that had always been there for me whenever I was in trouble, was asleep. He was snoring while we shivered and waited hopelessly for someone to open the gate. While he was sound asleep, people taking their morning strolls, judged us with their judging eyes. How rude.

Lesson Learned:

No matter how good the food is, catching up with long lost friends / lovers is best done at home, in bed, where the walk of shame is limited, your car is safe, and your pride is still intact.