(Editor’s Note: Kai didn’t write this ‘We Missed You’ post. Thanks for showing up this morning, Kai.)
Hi everyone. My name’s Kai, and this morning was my first time attending November Project.
But this story isn’t about me. It’s about the small, bearded man, one who could pass for Bilbo Baggins if Lord of the Rings were a Bollywood production, who invited me to participate in the most culty non-cult that ever culted.
Sunish and I met at [BAR NAME REDACTED] at approximately 8:42pm last evening. Firstly, I spotted his countenance: cheery, witty, and continually caressing something gold, insisting that all bystanders referred to this object as “Precious”. Upon further examination, it was discovered that it was just a gold-plated can of Bud Light Lime-a-Rita. When we locked eyes, I saw a true man – albeit, a short man that could be mistaken for an extremely hairy college sophomore that Gabbi knows from her International Relations 204 class (btw, I don’t know who Gabbi is). He seemed to be a man with his shit together, who could simultaneously wax poetic with the local ladies while also increasing his drinking tolerance.
Me being not one to be intimidated by men half my height, I proceeded to observe Sunish bound down the bar, donning his poorly-spraypainted t-shirt, and approach me as if I were #UpForWhatever.
The words he spoke to me don’t matter – although I’ve never heard someone use the words “Susan B. Anthony” and “ELEVEN HUNDRED FUCKING BURPEES, MAN” in the same sentence – but it was the intent and gusto with which he spoke them. This was a man I would link arms with to fight the Raj with all my might. And at 6:22am today, I stood atop the steps at Alta Plaza, preparing for Field Day like it was 3rd grade all over for me, and Monday afternoon after cookies and story time all over for him.
At 6:30am, I realized that I had been duped. My Little Brown Bilbo was nowhere to be found. Fears crept in: had he recited the story of how he once attempted to ask every non-eligible female in #NPSF out on a date to everyone in that bar, or had he cried on everyone’s shoulder the day some random oar handle (which he insisted on calling “Alice, the Positivity Maiden”) was wrestled away from him and bestowed upon Mitch (who, by all accounts, seems like a pretty cool guy!)? I don’t know, and I fear I may never will.
But you know what, Sunish? That’s okay. I’ve moved on. I was warmly received and hugged, even by that dude with a bum shoulder and some Irishman that insisted on calling me a tree. I think this cult is growing on me.
Sunish, I didn’t miss you. No, oh no. You missed US.
Yours in excessive use of unnecessary memes,
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