My best friend’s name is Jeffrey Hoang. He’s a high-maintenance man who loves WingStop, singing at the top of his lungs, and the color blue. He doesn’t like lemonade, or people who just Snapchat pictures of their faces with no text. He’s accomplished, smart, and personable, but he will never ever admit those things to you because he’s humble.
He’s from Saginaw, Michigan, and he lived right around the corner from me. When I crashed my car in my senior year, he would drive me home from school. When I was on the fence about auditioning for a play, he convinced me to because he somehow knew what was good for me.
When I get caught up in my emotions and need a call on the cusp of a new day, Jeffrey will pick up the phone and answer. He might be groggy, he might be half there, but he picks up at midnight because he cares.
As a freshman in high school I was thrown into a new environment. I had come to a gigantic school, with people who had years of growing up together. As I wandered the halls looking for my classes, and new friends, I was lonely.
One day, I made about 200 sugar cookies, and just handed them out to whoever I could in the hopes that one person would stick. Everyone did take the offering, including Jeffrey who gave me a Pocky in exchange. He was involved in theater, and was my friend within classes for the remainder of the year.
Jeffrey wasn’t my best friend until after we graduated high school, though,but that’s not to say we weren’t close. He was heavily involved in every aspect of school as possible, and we’d always find a way to bug each other somehow year after year. Whether it be sharing the stage together, or arguing about whose route home was quicker, he remained a constant.
The pandemic hit, and my mental health dipped. Even though we hadn’t talked all that much, I remember choosing to go to MSU and staying up late with Jeffrey texting about the halfway point from East Lansing to Yipsilanti, where he’d be going to college.
When he was moving away, and I was online, we hugged outside of my home, and I made it a point to text him every so often to check in on his adventures. I sat in my room with Zoom classes and saw him find who he really was being away from our hometown.
He came back for the summer, and we hung out quite a bit. Late night drives blasting music were accompanied by various trips to McDonalds. We grew closer, and when it was my time to finally go off to campus, I had gained a new hometown best friend.
We had some wild adventures where he’d visit me here in East Lansing and we’d annoy my roommate with various shenanigans, running around a campus he didn’t belong to. The next year it was my turn, spending many nights sleeping away a night of clubbing on the couch in his apartment.
Jeffrey introduced me to some of my best and closest friends, and got me out of my shell just by being himself. All the while, he’s remained at my side. That halfway point we talked about doesn’t exist, because we’ve visited each other so much, all the miles put on our cars equal out somewhere.
We are mean to each other. He makes me angry on purpose, and I let him because he’s the only exception. In retaliation I yell at him. The bickering is something I’ve come to appreciate, although in the moment I do vent my frustrations by threatening to punch him.
He doesn’t remember birthdays, so he keeps a calendar of almost every person he shares more than 20 minutes with. The 365 days of the year are dotted with people’s special days, and he makes it a point to send a wish.
He always backs into parking spaces, even when he’s just running into a place. His Rav4 will be perfectly in between the lines, and will already be remote started by the time he gets back to it.
Wherever he goes, he packs his items in the same duffel bag he always has. He will probably be running late to his destination, but mess has become part of the plan. Sometimes I’ll text him to arrive at places a half an hour before he’s supposed to be there so he comes on time.
Jeffrey is a hypochondriac, his go-to karaoke song is You’re So Vain by Carly Simon, and he doesn’t do well in hot weather. He doesn’t like people who are way too into school pride, but he will still tote around a water bottle from our high school. Every outfit is a variation of the next, but don’t buy him clothing as a gift.
I could go on listing all the tiny things I notice and love about my best friend for paragraphs, but none will ever be enough to truly capture how unique and wonderful he is. When he reads this, he’ll be debating each one, and defending his actions. He will probably be embarrassed, but that’s just how he is when people show their gratitude towards him.
There’s something to be said about such a great person. He’s not perfect, but he’s the bestest friend I have in the whole world. We know each other so well sometimes it’s scary, and I’ve never had someone who I can truly tell everything to… even when he doesn’t want to hear it.
Just the other day I tried to lie to him, but couldn’t keep my mouth shut.
He is going to go on to do so many amazing things with his life, and he’s going to act casual about every single one of them. There are so many who have been impacted by him, and they will all voice their outstanding opinions about him.
Jeffrey is a singer, a good driver, and a lover of chicken. He’s well spoken, and will dissect different forms of media with you with an outlook you’ve never thought of.
He is all of the things I’ve written about, and so much more beyond it. I think everybody should have someone as good as Jeffrey in their lives, because he has helped me along the way of becoming who I am. No decision has been made without a text sent to him. No bad choice is done without the thought in my head of, “Jeffrey is going to judge me.”
And I have the luxury, the absolute privilege to call him my best friend.