Halfway through my freshman year of high school, I found myself two states away from my childhood home of Seattle. I was sure my new school would offer an opportunity to shed my former identity as a shy, socially-inept girl and reinvent myself as the outgoing, popular girl that I knew was hiding somewhere inside. Sadly, that girl never surfaced. I was just as shy in California as I was in Washington, and my reinvention wasn’t coming as easily as I’d hoped.
After a few awkward weeks of eating lunch in the library, I met Erica*. We connected instantly and after only a few weeks, we were inseparable. We shared a love of science fiction, which we indulged by penning deliciously awful fan fiction after school. We talked for hours about everything from our Jedi alter egos to our difficult family lives. We drooled over boys together and dished gossip without inhibition. I knew Erica inside and out, as she did me.
In short, our bond was everything a friendship should be.
Two years later, I dumped her. Keep reading »
My friend Rachel suggested it. We planned it for Friday the 13th, mostly because that sounded like a special day.
“I could really use a ceremony. Do we get to dress up?” I asked, half-joking.
“Of course we do!”
The Ceremony we planned wasn’t affiliated with any religion or spirituality. It was anything we wanted it to be. The theme, we decided, would be “renewal.”
When I was a kid, I had a great imagination. I loved the idea of magic. I saw it everywhere. Trees were magical. Pretty dresses were magical. It’d been a long time since I felt like anything was magical.So I was a little nervous when the day of The Ceremony rolled around. I am 25. My girlfriends and I don’t play dress up together. We talk about real world stuff. None of us wants to be a princess anymore. Or at least, no one would admit to it.
Keep reading »
Let’s make it all about Oprah for a moment, shall we? Oprah says in reference to Gayle (and I’m paraphrasing here), “Nothing’s better than a good friend,” and with the notable exception of a perfectly done French fry, I wholeheartedly agree. There’s really nothing better. If you’re living without, I recommend you fix the situation pronto. That said, I’ve no intention of instructing you on how to go about that here; I’m out of practice myself, having slipped into a motley crew of lunatics my freshman year of college and having held on tightly to those lunatics for the better part of 15 years. At this stage, new friends come along only once in a long while. And all I can say in terms of how I find them, is that, well, I don’t really. They find me is how it feels: I’m at a social gathering complaining about my facial hair, when suddenly there’s some new gal beside me who’s like, “My issue has always been my hairy lower back.” So you get to talking and fast-forward five years and she’s the one you call crying about the fact that you’re crying about J. Lo’s divorce. So again, I’m not here to tell you how to find her; I’m here to tell you how to assess a new lady friend. How to tell if she’s The One. Or, more specifically a Keeper. Keep reading »
When I was young, my parents told me I was beautiful and I believed them. I went out into the world feeling confident about my womanly charms and things went smoothly for me. I always managed to find a boy who would tell me I was perfect, even if he did wear suspenders and a really old T-shirt that said “STATISTICS means never having to say you’re certain.” And then I moved to Manhattan when I was 22, and everything changed. Keep reading »
Remember when I was all, “I’m turning 30, so what?” Well, I think I jinxed myself! After writing that essay, the days until my 30th birthday continued to count down, and I started feeling some … anxiety and sadness about the whole thing. Not because I’m actually sad about bidding goodbye to my 20s — they were fun, but not that fun — but because so many of my friends have already hit the big 3-0 and I’m feeling woefully distant from them these days. Keep reading »