“See, it’s the little things,” Dwaine said over and over last night. Little things like
* hanging out at an old friend’s new house that’s designed so beautifully and so comfort-consciously that you can sprawl out on the leather sofa and not feel like it’s gross or inappropriate
* splitting a delicious pepperoni, bell pepper and olive pizza after stumbling delightedly on each other’s identical dislike for Hawaiian pizza toppings (Me: “I can deal with the ham all right, but I can’t stand the sweet and salty thing on something that’s supposed to be salty! I mean, is it a dinner, a dessert?” Dwaine: “That’s exactly how I feel! Pineapple has no business being anywhere near a pizza! I like pineapple, I can eat it as a separate dessert after dinner, but my respect for people just drop when they want a Hawaiian pizza.”)
* starting with white zinfandel, then moving on to shiraz, then some amazing Jamaican rum cream
* very engaging conversation about our past and old childhood acquaintances, our careers, our futures; psychoanalysis and ridicule of the male goal-oriented mind vs. the female emotion shifts (his life); gender roles and some politically incorrect spewage
* lots of laughing (only slightly enhanced by alcohol)
* an offer to take me to and pick me up from the airport when I fly up north in a few weeks for my bday, thereby resolving all the anxiety I had about getting there on time, not getting lost, where to park my car over the weekend and not pay an arm and a leg, etc.

Totally worth ditching jujitsu and running for.