If there were ever a Nobel Prize for friendship, Valeska would win it. The committee would vote unanimously, and she’d come to collect her award.
Valeska first became known to me in my second year French class. She sat far away, with a girl named Daria. A year below me, but in the second-year course of about 20 students, the two were impressive—I wanted in.
We worked on a few group projects together, shared stories, and had a night out or two. I invited her to my 22nd birthday. For my 25th, I decided to invite anyone I could, and from my party date in August 2022, there hasn’t been a week we’ve gone without talking.
I can’t remember exactly how our friendship deepened, but I assume it was because we appreciated each other’s depth. She is one of the smartest women I know—today, a lawyer at a top Toronto firm.
When I started writing 52 Friends, Valeska proudly supported my work. Sharing all of my media appearances in her family’s group chat. “My mom said, ‘I love smart women like this,’” Valeska later told me.
This weekend, she’s busy at a bachelorette party where she is the maid of honour. I haven’t seen her in a few weeks, and then I remember that Valeska is not only a fabulous friend to me, but her distinction comes from being a genuinely close friend to more people than anyone I know.
But by some miracle, she is available, present, and trustworthy, and not just when it is convenient for her. She answers my frequent texts quickly—no matter how stupid my inquiry is. “Did I ever tell you about my aunt who was in a 30-year situationship from 45 to 75?” I texted.
“Omg no!” she replied with sincere interest.
Our typical topics include theorizing on dating and other people’s lives, business, travel, and where to meet men who will understand that we’re untraditionally traditional.
Valeska understands that I think a lot. On a phone call a few weeks ago, I complained about a romantic prospect, someone who managed to move on faster than I did. “The most interesting thing about this person is that someone like you is interested in them,” she reminded me.
Somehow, she remains patient enough to hear me talk about the same thing until I’m over it. When I write this blog in particular, I write thinking to myself, “Will Valeska like this?”
And then I wait for her message in the hours that follow posting to hear her thoughts. Essentially, she does what any good friend should do—make us feel good about ourselves.
Central to our bond is our love for themed parties. She is the greatest proponent of my overplanned birthdays, discussing ideas for them as if they’re Oval Office dinners. What more could I ask for in a friend?
“I will not let anyone walk through my mind with their dirty feet.”
―Mahatma Gandhi