This post has been sitting in my drafts for over a week after a particularly shitty pity party. I’m publishing it now so my blog doesn’t feel so neglected, too.
“Why is that? The flower is the most beautiful thing on my planet!”
“We do not record them,” said the geographer, “because they are ephemeral.”
“But what does that mean–‘ephemeral’?” said the little prince, who never in his life had let go of a question, once he had asked it.
“It means, ‘which is in danger of speedy disappearance.'”
“Is my flower in danger of speedy disappearance?”
“Certainly it is.”
We’re inundated early: The Baby Sitters Club, Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants. It continues into adulthood: Sex & the City. The elusive clique, those women you can refer to as “my girlfriends,” the ones we’re supposed to have Friday lunch with, annual cruises with, the ones who know the things your significant other doesn’t.
I don’t think I’ve ever had this group of women. Or if I did, the feeling was so fleeting that it hardly counts. I’ve always been solo or had just a single best friend. I think back to grade school and only remember a best friend, no clique. In junior high, the other cheerleaders were so petty. In high school, there were four of us. We were a barbershop quartet. We were fantastic. But the three of them graduated a year before me and I was left alone. In college, there was a core group of women but I always felt like an outsider, an intruder, an afterthought. I was on the outside looking in. I didn’t live with them. But they were in my wedding and once I was married, it seemed I wasn’t even an afterthought—I was a non-thought. But that’s okay, because I had my blogging buds, right? Sure, there was the first group of Vegas girls (2009 represent) and there are the girls who met in Indianapolis in 2010… but it seems even my closest buds have moved onto more inspirational blogging pals, better writers, better photographers, better GChatters, better networkers…
I don’t have G-chat or Skype buddies. I’ve been chasing the elusive group of gal pals my entire life. I’ve spent more time feeling left out than I have feeling included. I want to know that there is a miniature tribe of fearless woman that I can fall back on, whose plans will always be constant, whose rituals never change. I want to be able to count on someone excited to see me at our annual who-the-fuck-cares event. I want to feel like a worthwhile friend.
Some people search relentlessly for a man. For me, that was the easy part. I need soul sisters. I just want to feel included in a group of strong, inspirational women. I want to feel like I’m part of something. I want to say “my girlfriends” and actually have someone to refer to. Quite frankly, I’m tired of looking and I don’t think I’ll ever find my Charlotte, Miranda, and Samantha. (Full disclosure: I had to look the characters up. I’ve never seen a full episode.)
Can you truly have friends for life? Or will they always come and go? Am I forever doomed to be far more invested in a given friendship than she is? Are friendships ephemeral?
This was one of those “hard-to-hit-publish” posts. Trust it took all the courage one can muster in a funk. I know the comments I’ll be getting will be along the lines of “Go out and find your girlfriends!” “Make an effort!” “You know you can always talk to me!” I don’t want encouragement, but thank you for the nice thoughts. I want to mourn the loss of the elusive clique that I doubt I’ll ever attain. Mourning and moving on.