Girls' Night

I've never been a good girlfriend. Well, I've been a fine girlfriend to some of my boyfriends, I guess, although I'm sure there are one or two who'd disagree with that assessment. But I've never had a gaggle of girlfriends like The Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants or Sex and the City. I'm sort of a one-on-one person more than a group person, and I've always had friends who don't quite go together, which was kind of a drag when I'd be home on break from college, because one big party or night out with all of my friends wasn't really an option -- it was one or two people at a shot, for the most part.

Anyway, since I've been with The Smelmooo, that's changed a little bit. He also has friends from all different parts of his life, but he's very good at bringing them together and getting people to know each other. There is a core group of poker buddies -- or there was, until one of them became a daddy and the other became a political candidate, but maybe that'll pick up again in November -- who came complete with a core group of "poker wives" (sexist, I know, but it's our reality, although now with the dwindling of the group is our opportunity for integrated gambling). We would go out to dinner or a movie or have game night or whatever, and it's been really fun getting to know these women better, and have a little club, even if the four of us are sort of a far cry from Carrie, Miranda, Samantha and Charlotte (although if we have to assign those roles, I think I'm Charlotte, and the other three can fight it out among themselves).

Anyway, during the last couple of years, I've also taken part in a quarterly-ish girls' night out with two other friends; the latest of these was on Saturday. One of them is in a new condo, so we gathered to oooh and ahhhh over her place, and then walked down to a local pub for a greasy, delicious dinner and drinks. We just giggled over nothing and everything, and had a chance to catch up that wasn't a bullet-pointed email or a harried phone call with a million distractions, and it was thoroughly relaxing and enjoyable. I love these women, and they are just so good to me and good for me; they were the orchestrators of my bachelorette party last year, they listen, they give solid advice, they make me laugh and let me cry.

My friendship with both of these women started when I was introduced to them by other friends, both of whom are now former friends. I don't really know when the three of us started hanging out, but it makes me happy that we do, and grateful that we continue our relationship despite the severing of those initial ties that brought us together.

I think I've written here before that I'm not a big fan of the "everything happens for a reason" logic, but I was struck the other night of how I don't ever feel like those former friendships were wasted, because I learned from them and gained great new friendships as a result. But the anxious, insecure part of me is now thinking, "Okay, if I'm the bridge that brought these two together, how long until I'm extraneous?!" Which I know is silly, and the thought was fleeting, but there it is. I am a huge fan, the older I get, of allowing friendships to run their due course, and then just sort of accepting a natural end and moving on.

That's often easier in theory than in practice, because even if you both know it's time, often both parties don't arrive at that conclusion at the same time, and there are bound to be some hurt feelings. But, gosh, when a friendship just starts to be nothing but an effort, or nothing more than "God, remember that time when...?", it's time to cut the cord. And that should be okay.

I have myself struggled with this sometimes, wanting to hang on to the way things used to be, or beating the proverbial dead horse, or crying and wondering what I'd done wrong. The semester I spent in England, I became best, best friends with my next-door neighbor, Christian, and we were pretty much inseparable during those four months. We got each other through everything there. And then we went home, talked when we could, hung out a few times, I went to his wedding, and then...pffft. Nothing. It just wasn't tenable; we couldn't plop our relationship into our new realities, which included other friends and a girlfriend (then fiancee, then wife) and a boyfriend and family and school and work and everything else. We knew how to be very best friends, staying up all night with a bottle of wine or cider, exploring new cities, experiencing life together in another country; we didn't know how to have a casual dinner with other people in real life after having not seen each other for months. But we let it drag on; we both tried, halfheartedly, because we had had a huge impact on each other's lives, and how do you just let go of the person who was your rock for a very short but very intense and formative period of time?

But we did, and I think we both feel at peace with it, finally. Last year, I had a dream about him the night before his birthday, and I woke up and emailed him just to say happy birthday, no strings attached, you were a huge part of my life and I wish you all the best. And he wrote back, essentially, "Ditto," and neither of us started in with the "Oh, we should get together next time you're in town," or any of that nonsense, because we know it won't happen, and we're both okay with it now.

Most breakups aren't so smooth, but I'm grateful both for his friendship and for the peaceful end to it; it allows me to remember our time together without regret, unclouded by the hurt and ugliness that accompanies so many breakups when they're overdue.

So now I'm all about enjoying my friends when I'm with them, and while the time and the place is right for us to love and need and complement each other, to laugh and grow with each other, to learn from each other. And I realize that although it might not last forever, right now it's unimaginable that it wouldn't.