A day in my and Drake’s hypothetical friendship.
I would like to begin with a tweet from Chance The Rapper:
No, Chance. You’re not the only person who wakes up wishing he could hang out with Drake more. And yes, I agree: he definitely looks like all he does is have a good time.
Drake subscribes to the idea of “more life,” and it’s a sentiment I totally agree with. I, too, strive to have an existence full of “more life.”
They say you should befriend people who share similar views as you.
So it’s enough to make me think: If Drake and I were friends in real life, what would that look like?
Here‘s what a day in my and Drake’s hypothetical friendship might look like.
The day begins with both of us texting our mothers, telling them we hope they have a great day and that we love them. We also thank them for listening to our problems on a phone call the night before, and for their always helpful advice and pearls of wisdom.
We are both momma’s boys. This is part of why we get along so well. Drake has said in the song Blessings, “I am just worried about my momma worrying less,” and I could not agree more, best friend Drake. I, too, want my mom to worry less. About me, my brother, my dad, our dog Nugget, everything.
Next I text my friend Drake about what today’s plan is going to be.
LOL PSYCH! Fuck texting! We’re on another level of friendship.
We FACETIME each other to see what the plan is. It’s a Thursday, and our schedules are unusually free. “I’ll come down to where you’re at,” Drake says. Meaning, he’ll fly down from Toronto to me, in Chicago, to hang out. “Okay cool, hey remember to bring that copy of Harry Potter I loaned you last month,” I reply.
At this point, we’d playfully banter about which Hogwarts house each of us would be in. Drake, I say, is such a Hufflepuff and he says I’m “straight-up Ravenclaw, no question. No fightin me on dis ting, herr me bwoi?” This is so us. And yes, sometimes Drake starts randomly talking in a Jamaican accent. It’s this thing he does.
Drake’s private jet lands and he’s at my apartment in Chicago, Harry Potter book in tow. I give him shit about how many dog-eared pages there are in the book. “You guys got bookmarks up there in Canada, Drake?” I joke. (Again, that’s just what we do.) “Before I forget, here…” I loan him the next book in the Harry Potter series (Prisoner of Azkaban) and he puts it in his bag.
We sit around my apartment talking about why we suck at relationships.
First of all, unlike a lot of guys, we’re both very comfortable sharing our feelings and emotions. We’re sensitive types like that. (I’ve been told I’m a “softboy” and I don’t disagree.)
So it’s just two soft-boys, hanging out and eating pistachios, trying to figure this whole “relationship” thing out.
I talk about how, after several not-so-successful relationships, I’ve recently come to the realization that I self-sabotaged the relationships by being too in my head and being too much of a people-pleaser.
Instead of living in the moment with the other person, I was projecting waaay into the future. Worrying if my parents will like them. Worrying about whether the fact I don’t drink and they do will be an issue for us down the line. Churning in my head about whether they really like me. Ruminating about whether I’m doing enough to make them happy, even at the expense of my own likes/wants.
“Duuude, that’s what I’m talking about though,” Drake says, excitedly jumping up a bit from his seat, startling my cat who’s sitting on his lap. “Why do we put so much pressure on ourselves? We set such high, unrealistic expectations of ourselves and others, when — ”
“… When we just need to go with flow and live in the moment. Yeah, I hear you, Drizzy,” I reply, pensively, fidgeting with a pistachio.
We both sigh. Damn, this got heavy. But we really got somewhere with this! That’s what friends do: Support each other and bond over the tough shit. Try to make each other better. And that is what me and my best friend Drake do.
We do something good for others. Drake is very generous with his wealth. In his music video, “God’s Plan,” he gave away nearly a million dollars to everyday people, students, and schools in Miami.
He has also said, “I’ve got a really big team, and they need some really big rings.” Drake takes care of the friends and family who supported him through it all.
I, too, love caring for my friends and family and the community. It gives me great joy to do something for others.
So we spend these two hours brainstorming ways to give back to the community, our friends, and our family. All to show our gratitude and thanks for everything they do.
We fill up four (4!) whiteboards with ideas of stuff we plan on doing over the next few months.
We feel really good about this. We reward ourselves with more pistachios.
We text our moms.
It’s been a long day. And Drake’s gotta get back to the 6. (i.e. Toronto). I also need to get some writing done on Medium, so we decide to call it a day.
He gives my cat a little pet on the head and gathers his stuff, including the Harry Potter book.
“Don’t chu tell me how dis end, bwoi, no givin me no spoilers, ch’hear me?” Drake says.
We handshake-hug, and make plans for our next hangout.
He heads off to the airport.
Drake texts me: “I miss u.”
I’m so moved by this gesture of friendship.
I’m about to write back when I get a text back:
“Oops, sorry. Wrong person! That was meant for someone else.”
“A girl?” I reply back.
“A woman,” Drake corrects me.
“All good,” I text back, along with a Bitmoji of myself as an avocado.
I put my phone on the charger next to my nightstand.
Close the light.
And go to sleep.