You’ve Got A Friend in Me
On the first day of kindergarten, I sat next to a girl who told me she liked my Care Bears backpack. That backpack was fire. It was navy blue with double satchel buckles and I felt so cool when I wore it. That exchange solidified our best-friendship for the entire school year. Remember when it was that easy to make friends?
Almost every time I peruse Facebook or skim the New York Times, I find articles about the importance of friendship and other social interaction. I certainly don’t doubt the significance of those things, but how exactly does an adult go about forming such relationships? Asking for a friend.
There are 24 hours in a day. On most days, I need to squeeze in exercise, child care, bathing, meal prep, eating, transportation to and from school, doggie care, my job, cleaning pee from around my toilets, spending quality time with my babies and husband, and sleep. With an exhausting list like that, it can be really challenging to find time to put myself out there and meet new people. Let’s be honest. Meeting new people requires a whole lot more than just showing up. It requires dusting off the least offensive, funniest version of myself, dressing her in something semi-trendy that fits comfortably, and containing the parts reserved for people that already like me. Like my trash mouth. Or snort laugh. Or whatever the opposite of a poker face is. It’s hard work. So when faced with the choice of contorting into a tidier version of myself or sliding into bed to watch Love Island, 9 out of 10 times, I’m choosing Love Island. (All of this is assuming there I have an actual place to go other than Trader Joe’s, Max’s sporting events, and Luke’s preschool.)
So imagine my surprise when I tell you I have a new friend. She’s the mama of Luke’s very best friend. My family ran into her family unexpectedly one night in June at a burger place one town over. She asked if I was interested in scheduling a play date for the boys. I told her that I would, but then I warned her about my terrible language. Her eyes widened with excitement as she yelled to her husband, “Honey! She swears!”
A few weeks later, the first play date arrived. Luke and I headed to their house, bearing Goldfish and juice boxes, with a mild hangover on the side. I explained that the night before, Hubs and I had attended a Biggie Smalls tribute show at the Stone Church with a group of friends. My companions and I drank every single High Noon available (except for black cherry because fuck black cherry). She found it all to be very entertaining.
For those in the back: I swore in front of her kids AND attended our first outing while hungover. And she still likes me. There’s a lesson to be learned here.
So like, what if we don’t need to hide parts of ourselves? What if we just existed in the world? And people who like us would choose to spend time with us. And maybe the people who don’t like us would choose to stay away. Why would we want to spend time with people who only like the edited versions of ourselves, anyway? And what if the edited versions of ourselves keep the good people away?
You know, if Max came to me with this experience, I would, of course, encourage him to always be his authentic self. I wouldn’t think twice about it. It’s funny how we don’t take our own advice, isn’t it?
♥
P.S. Have you joined my email list?
