My very first best friend was Julie. She was everything I was not: dark-skinned and exotic. I attended public school while she was enrolled in the Montessori school. Her parents were divorced, while mine remained married. She liked strawberry jam on her PB&J while I preferred grape jelly. See? totally different. We ended up drifting apart when she began attending my public school in 5th grade. She wanted to hang around the "cool kids", a circle of which I certainly was not welcome to join. So, back to square one.
My second best friend was Susan. She moved to my neighborhood in 6th grade. She was alone, like me. We filled each other's empty spaces. We both had so many typical pre-pubescent flaws - the type that are never kindly overlooked but rather magnified and discussed and used in every way possible to bring a person with an already fragile self-image to her wobbly flaky-skinned knees. But we understood each other's flaws and shared a common interest in speculating about all the popular girls' future faux pas that would catapult them into embarassment, like pimples and food stuck in braces and toilet paper stuck to their shoes. We both longed for the sweet reward of the day that we were not the only ones being laughed at in Junior High school.
But then I finished Junior High school and went on to a private high school, leaving Susan behind. As much as I hated the popular girls, I decided I wanted to be one, and a new school was the perfect place to reinvent myself. I wanted to know how it felt to sit at a lunch table with other people who included me. I longed to speak in class without fearing the inevitable laughter that would follow. I wanted to express my eclectic style and be called "cool" or "fashionable" instead of "freak". So I went, and I became a popular girl. I thought I would show other girls in my circle how to be popular the right way: treat everyone kindly, give people a friendly smile, never participate in gossip and teasing and put-downs. And I did well for the most part... until Susan transferred to my private school Sophomore year. I was threatened by her presence. I didn't want her to tell my new group of friends about how unpopular we were at our old school. And, my need to be accepted by the group had tempered my individuality, whereas Susan remained true to herself. So when she marched to the beat of a different drummer, I drew myself further and further away from her, and I encouraged my new circle of friends to do the same. Susan came to my school with the expectation of acceptance and I let her down in the worst way.
Friendship FAIL.
My treatment of her still haunts me. There is no apology that I can give. There is no penance. There is only the memory of my immature, damaging behavior. I'd love to say that my treatment of her really wasn't that big of a deal. I'd love to believe that my actions didn't affect her. But I know better. I don't know where she is today. I don't know if she remembers me as "the girl who ruined my life" or as just another speed bump in the journey that is adolescence. Hopefully I'm not so narcissistic to believe the former, but some people take their teen years harder than others. Either way, I don't know if an apology from me would make much of a difference to her at this point, even if I could find her. Maybe after I publish this post I should go hit Facebook.
maybe not...My third best friend was Angie. I thought she was THE. SHIT. She was smart and cute and funny and easygoing and talented. All the guys went crazy for her. And she had a trampoline (which made for the best slumber parties of all our friends). Sometimes I think I was a little too intense for her... I'd call too much or want to spend the night at her house all the time or just want us to be like sisters. Thank God she never followed through with that restraining order. Whew, dodged that bullet! (just kidding) We had periods of drifting away, then becoming close again, then drifting again, then rekindling the friendship again. My friendship with Angie developed and continued through a time when I was growing out of the hormonal teenage years, and consequently the drama of friendship kinda leveled-off. I learned how, when my feelings got hurt, to not turn it into a life-or-death situation. When our friendship didn't sail along, smooth as glass, I didn't go off the deep end. Well, Okay, I did at first. But I learned not to do it every time. And eventually, our relationship grew in new directions and stretched to new places I never expected it to go. And we went there together.
Then my next best friend was Nicole W., then next was Elena, then Nicole A., then Jackie, then Sherry, then Leslie, then Joni. Every best friend I've had has taught me something and given me something.
I know myself, and I know that I need friends. I can't be like my husband and just survive with casual acquaintances. I need to have that double-X chromosome person who can relate to the emotions I'm going through. But it isn't as easy to make friends as it used to be. I don't sit next to anyone at the Pep Rally or in Chem Class. I don't even have co-workers. There should be a match.com service for finding friends.
Woman seeks woman for friendship to share cocktails, labor stories, and mutual disdain for carpool. Have emotions, will share.It doesn't help that we move from state to state every few years. I've just about reached my limit of how many times I can form new friendships and then let them die when I move. Because, believe me, there is nothing more hurtful, more betraying, than when a person to whom you've poured out your heart and shared your secrets suddenly quits calling or emailing, simply because out-of-sight means out-of-mind. That is worse than breaking up; that is the "I'll call you" that never happens.
I know I'm not alone in this struggle. This need for female human interaction is the whole reason mommy-and-me playgroups got started. Women need a safe place to find other women who are also looking for an ear to bend. It's not like we can go to the grocery store and say to the other shopper in our aisle, "Oh, I see you're buying green beans too! I love green beans!! Wanna get some coffee?" That borders on creepy stalker. When I was a new college graduate and setting goals for 5 years, 10 years, and 20 years ahead, I never imagined that "have a few good friends" should be on the list. Because really, who ever imagines how hard it will be to sustain a friendship once they've survived the minefield of high school?
But that's it, isn't it? Making and maintaining friendships is hard work when we don't have easy access to people who share mutual interests. Even if we find that pool of people, a lot of them don't fit our vision of a BFF. We want someone who is as much like us as possible, at least as much as necessary so that we have some talking points in common.
How is it possible, in this world of millions of people (even in my city of millions of people) that I feel so alone? I'm not sure about the answer. I'm really wondering if I have this open hole in my soul that no amount of love or friends or compliments or food or clothes or hobbies will ever fill. As soon as I get enough, the hole grows and I want more. Maybe I need to quit looking for more friends, more love, new hobbies, and yummier food. Maybe I need to work on shrinking that hole.
This one was at the most recent PTA meeting. I was doing my best to keep Sally entertained. I said, "Hey! Look! Let's take a picture of ourselves!!! Look - you can see us on the camera!!" She was not in the least bit amused.
Okay, now, you do it too! I want to see what you look like!!
