Sugar and Spice

Somewhere in one of my parents' photo albums, is a picture of me as gap-toothed, pigtailed 4-year-old dressed as a munchkin after a community production of 'The Wizard of Oz.'  Holding a red carnation, my cheeks overly-rouged, my eyes bright and happy, I'm leaning shyly into Young, a little boy in tattered jeans, a lightly stained white t-shirt, and a round, dirt-smudged face.  He was one of my best friends at the time and probably a little bit in love with me.  When I set fire to the neighborhood playground with a book of matches I'd found, he didn't hesitate for one minute to take the blame.  And when we played house, he let me do whatever the hell I wanted and I could totally boss him around and make him earn the bacon and do all the cleaning. Together, he and my other best guy friend, Ian, and I collected tadpoles, burned ants with magnifying glasses, cut earth worms in half with plastic picnic knives, and played "doctor" and "tv repairman" (don't ask!).  Each week, I changed my mind on which of the two boys I'd grow up and marry, and usually I just wished I could marry them both and we'd always be so happy with our tadpoles and worms and ants and fun games.  Even at 4 and 5 years old, I think I knew these male-female friendships suffered a bit of underlying tension, an invisible line we gingerly toed and sometimes haphazardly jumped across, momentarily oblivious to the potential consequences.

Then there was Julie, my lone female friend during kindergarten.  She was one year older and blonde and blue-eyed and the prettiest girl in the neighborhood.  With her, I watched Charlie's Angels and Wonder Woman and fantasized about growing up. 
"Just think," I'd say gleefully, "One day we'll have boobs and babies and husbands!" 
"I want to marry Nicholas from Eight is Enough," Julie would exclaim. 
"Ooooh, me too!" I'd agree. 
"We both should," Julie would reason,"Then we could be sisters!"
There was no underlying romantic tension between us, no invisible line we gingerly toed or tempted -- we were just a coupla little girls with ponytails and dolls and dreams and stuff who cried when our feelings were hurt and giggled when we were happy.

And this is how it has always been -- a sort of balance between my male and female friendships, each with its own set of rewards and challenges.

In the second half of college, I'd argue the balance tipped more heavily on the side of boys, both gay and straight ones.  I whiled away countless afternoons in their presence, sucking down beers, watching old movies, MTV, and re-runs of The Simpsons, and enjoying the emotional detatchment friendships like theirs afforded.  My girlfriends always seemed sort of weepy and wound up about one thing or another and in their company, instead of casually shooting the shit about nothing important at all, we'd spend hours and hours analyzing stuff, comparing our flaws, confessing our sins, and exposing our neuroses, it was all just so exhausting!  And as, one by one, my female friends drifted away from me, either by physical or metaphorical moves, I failed to replace them, until, for a couple of years, I had none left at all.

And then sometime around 26 or 27, I'm not really sure how or why -- it wasn't a deliberate action, I started gathering women friends again.  They were still more emotional than my guy friends, more analytical, maybe even more neurotic and critical, but they also offered something I hadn't consciously realized how much I'd missed -- a nurturing presence, an intuitive nature, a quiet strength and understanding and acceptance of me and all my multi-layers that buoyed me through certain heartache and typical twenty-something doubts and concerns about the state of my life and my future and what, for fuck's sake, my place in the world was or should be.  Also, they liked going out with me to meet boys.

And now, as I quickly approach thirty and my female friends, both younger and older, go through their own life-changing events like marriage and divorce, career changes and demands, quickly ticking biological clocks, home ownership, death of parents, and the fear, sadness, and acceptance that they might never find The One, I'm reminded again what we give each other, what, despite our love for them, the men in our lives are often unable to provide in the same way: the assurance that falling apart doesn't equal weakness, that celebrating achievement with giddiness or reading gossip magazines and watching The Bachelor doesn't indicate a lack of depth, and processing loss in outwardly emotional ways is healthy, that a strong libido doesn't make us slutty, and following our hearts instead of our heads doesn't mean we're stupid (but that men who blow us off most certainly are), that a closet full of clothes can mean there isn't anything to wear, and the announced engagement of an old boyfriend is a totally acceptable reason to call in sick, that five pounds is a good excuse to stay in and wear sweats, that it's indeed appropriate to spend more money on haircuts than groceries, and that any reason is good one for chocolate.

The other day I was sad and blue and feeling particularly vulnerable when a new girlfriend invited me over for dinner. We talked, laughed, sighed, shared stories, and commiserated for over four hours. The meal was appetizing, but it was the company, conversation, and the space to be just me that really filled me up.  Well, that and the two bottles of wine, I mean, who are we kidding?  After all, the best girlfriends have not only big hearts and an abundance of patience, but equally stocked liquor cabinets, too.  And that, in my book, will almost always beat out tadpoles and earth worms and puppy dog tails.  The Doctor and TV Repairman games?  Well, the jury's still out on that.

Comments

[nickel]

thank goodness we didn't tap into the whiskey! sheesh! praise be to the girl's girls out there. it's refreshing to know that i am still meeting them.

[cinnamongirl]

There's nothing like a great girls' night out... even when you don't go out-out. With the right girls, there's nothing like it.

[Peachy]

I don't have many girl friends anymore, so I'm a little jealous of your girls night out, but I'll be ok. I'm very curious about tv repairman. HA!!HA!!

[Marissa]

I found myself in a very similar situation. My female friends group started thinning out to say the least. We were just evolving in different directions. It is so hard to meet women friends so i sort of gave up on the idea. I went back in school and found myself confronted with the opportunity to make girlfriends. At first i didn't even consider the idea because well... everybody is like twelve in university. To my surprise i met a few really nice smart girls who also turned out to be very laid back (thank god). Even though these relationships are light and friendly now it was what i really needed. There are some spaces a man just can't fill..

[Raymond Bayerl]

As to the game of "TV Repairman", well, with our modern throwaway consumer electronics, we don't repair TVs any more; we just pitch them and go buy another. I should think the game now would be more like a trip to Best Buy, to find something new after discarding the previous faulty unit.

I have also always wondered why it is that women can have both girlfriends and boyfriends, but men can only have girlfriends, and not boyfriends. They have to be "buddies", or some other such term, unless we're talking about something all the way to Brokeback Mountain.

[-shannon-]

Props. Mad Props. And a very lovely post.

[Ann]

You're the next Carrie Bradshaw. You are so heartwarming, genuine and truthful. I need such insight with my evening glass of wine on a more regular basis. I mean, really, OMG, too beautiful.

[citywendy]

What a nice thing to say -- thank you.