So, once you really become addicted to flyfishing (if you're not yet there, you may want to take a hard look at heroin - it's cheaper and less addictive), there's a good chance you'll have a fishing buddy. Maybe a few friends who you fish with occassionally, but usually just one fishing buddy who seems to understand your specific brand of insanity. This is the guy who stays up 'til 1am watching Youtube videos with you, dreaming of exotic places where the fish are huge and aggressive, places you may never be able to afford to visit. It's the guy who understands exactly how you feel when a monster brown as big as a submarine takes you for a 10 second thrill ride and then tears your entire rig to pieces, leaving you with that slack-line feeling in the pit of your stomach. It's also the guy who brings you a mess of donuts when you lose your job and you're wondering what you're going to do with the rest of your life. The donuts are the non-verbal way of saying, "You'll figure it out. Everything will work out - it always does." And then you don't feel so bad, because you realize "You're right. I don't have a job, and I have a lot of thinking to do. I think best when I'm up to my waist in a river. Really the only thing that makes sense is to get in some intense liquid pondering for a few days." Thanks for bringing that to my attention, Fishing Buddy.
