The Front Porch Test

In our lives we have different levels of relationships. There are the people we don't know about, the casual acquaintances, the stalking Facebook friends, the pals from the past, the family members that we're afraid of, and then there are the people who pass what is called "the Front Porch test."

Lily Aldrin: "When I picture the future, I picture us all together when we're older, playing bridge on the front porch of our beach house."

Marshall Eriksen: "Bridge! I win!"

Let me tell you about a couple who have passed my own front porch test.

I started hanging out with SuperBryce near the end of my senior year of high school. We were only friends by association, and for all I knew he was that one kid who would have micro machine drag races with some other weirdo who was obsessed with Japanese cars. Yeah I know, he was one of those guys. But time passes, we grow up, and it's rather interesting to see how some relationships deteriorate and others flourish by outside influences. And by outside influences, I mean spouses.

SuperBryce was dating the Nomadic Bronco just when I came home from my two-year hiatus in southern Virginia. I knew nothing of her, but I remember one night sitting at a Wendy's in Riverdale, Utah when SuperBryce told me over a double cheeseburger combo meal that he really L-worded the heck out of her.

It may not have been that big of a deal to him at the time, but I still remember that conversation.

We have had some good times over the years. There was the night when SuperBryce and I had batting practice with rotten peaches in Nina Doxey's culdesac, there was the pity blind date they set me up with who mid-make out informed me that she had mono, there have been the momentous games of Words with Friends that the Nomadic Bronco and I clash weekly over, and they were some of my most solid supporters when doctors sliced my head open a couple times, even though that dream companionship with the "stuck-up church girl" never worked out.

Earlier this afternoon I sat in church reading cartoon books about puppies and kitties to their 16-month old cuter than snot son Gavin and I'll tell you what, if you don't think that he is the most adorable thing ever made, well shame on you. I'll deliver a haymaker right to your ovaries if you don't agree with me. This kid would make Genghis Khan melt into warm butter he's that charming.

It's been over ten years since I graduated high school, and over five years since the two of them have been together, almost 2,000 days to be exact, and I kind of came to the realization that these are two people that I want to maintain a strong friendship with till I'm old and can't control my own poop. They are the reason that I was excited to come up to Portland and stand in a booth for seven hours. Ironically, it made me sick to my stomach that a sour sushi buffet kept me from spending more time with them and their son this weekend, they are that awesome. For them, I request the highest of fives.

Now there hasn't been any dramatic event, nor have there been any life-altering choices made that have solidified our friendship through the bonds of time. Nothing monumental, or outlandish by any means. The thing is that these two great friends have just been there, and so have I, and that's what makes our friendship work; that's what makes them pass the front porch test. They are the Marshall and Lily, and I am Ted Mosby.

Maybe one day, if I'm lucky, I'll find that girl with the yellow umbrella, and the four of us can enjoy late nights of bridge on our own front porch too.