Straight But Not Narrow

I've always said that I have a hard time making friends. I'm prickly, standoffish, and have a hard time keeping a pleasant look on my face. I've known this all my life.
Yet, I suddenly noticed the other day, that I have 5 new friends who say they love me every time we speak. One is the husband of my friend, Vicki. Maybe I shouldn't say that Bill is a new friend--I've known him for 5 years now--but I just noticed the I-love-you thing. He also calls me BonBon, a true sign of friendship.
Another is Chris, a woman who lives across the street from the campground where we're parked. Chris is a little gnome of a woman who befriended me when I trespassed (just a little) on her property because my dog could not resist the delicious scent of mice that inhabit her land. Chris and her husband, "The Buzzard," just celebrated their 55th wedding anniversary. First we waved. Then we chatted. Then we exchanged phone numbers, and now we love each other.
Friends #3 and #4 are Nan and Leota, an older gay couple whom I fell in love with immediately. My husband and I spotted them right away when they pulled into the campground in their motor home.
"Do you think they're nuns?" John said.
"I doubt it," I said. "One of them is drinking a beer. At 10 a.m."
"Nuns drink," John said.
I gripped him by the shoulder and said, "Honey, they aren't nuns."
"Oh."
It's almost impossible to find fellow Democrats in any campground. But especially here in the Bush-land of Texas, it's almost solid Republicans. I thought I spotted an Obama t-shirt on one of them, probably Nan, and since I think of myself as straight-but-not-narrow, I found the first excuse to mosey through their campsite. Now we love each other.
My newest friend is Seth, the grandson of another fellow camper. I would've guessed he's no more than 25, but I hear he's in his forties. It's too bad that the term "simple-minded" is out of vogue--it describes Seth perfectly. I don't know what the right term is, but you get the idea.
My husband is comfortable with people like Seth and greeted him warmly. I sort of ducked around the corner. But Seth sidled up to me anyway, put his big arm around my shoulder.
"Seth loves blondes," his grandpa joked. And apparently he doesn't care how brassy the blonde or that its wearer is nearly 50.
Later that day, he wrote me a note:

Hi Bonnie,
I am glad you're here.
I love you.
You are special.
You are my friend,
from Seth

Maybe I should stop saying that I don't make friends easily. Maybe it's just one of those lies I've been telling myself all my life.