The other day I asked my Twitter followers if they had best friends, specifying that I meant a best friend outside of a spouse/significant other or a sibling. The overwhelming majority said yes, indeed, they did, but the majority who expounded said they lived geographically far away from their best friend(s). I got to thinking about this because I spent the day in Olympia with one of my favorite friends, a girl who I have been close to, on and off, since 7th grade. We can always pick up where we left off, and have a great time together. Her son was born the day after Eriana, and I am SO excited she and her family are just a few hours away.
She isn’t my best friend. She never really was. Even if part of high school I considered her to be one of my best friends, I was never really hers. There was always someone else to whom she was closer. And I get that! It’s fine. Another close friend in high school was someone I considered my best friend, but I was “one of” hers. She had another best friend who was pretty protective of that title. Another thing I get. My best friend in high school was a guy, a guy on whom I secretly harbored a crush for most of our friendship. When we finally decided to try a relationship past friendship our friendship fell apart. And that was that. My last best friend was a fellow Air Force wife in Jim’s squadron in Altus. After we left for Japan I spoke to her one other time. And just like that she cut me out of her life. (That’s often the case with military families: you’re either cut off completely because it’s easier to make a clean break, or you carry on a lifelong friendship because you’ve been kindred spirits. I prefer the latter method, but obviously this lady did not.) At the time there was no Facebook, and she didn’t want a MySpace, and I don’t think she’s on Facebook now. I have recently contacted her on Pinterest, but to no avail. In Japan I had really great friends, but again no best friend. But we had couple friends, which was wonderful, and what I truly love. And then we moved back to my hometown, where everything was different.
My point is: I don’t have a best friend, outside of Jim and my younger sister. They are the closest people to me. And Jim has a best friend other than me, and my sister has several (and also is 2000+ miles away and is in a different place in her life than I am). I do have several friends with whom I can pick up like no time has been missed. I also have a great many Internet-turned-real life friends with whom I communicate every day or several times per week, but only see once or twice a year (a few who live closer I see more often, but even then it’s just every few months). These are my favorite friends: the ones I can hang out with and not worry about whether they still like me.
I have made a few friends here; two were online friends before I moved. I am sort of mourning the loss of my circle of friends in Oklahoma. I had a super great friend who was just a couple of hours away who made an effort to spend time with me. I had an old friend with whom I got to have lunch every couple of weeks and could spend effortless time with whenever I needed it. I had a group of lovely women at my church who reached out to me, cared about me, drank with me, and seemed to genuinely enjoy my company. But I didn’t have a best friend there, either. And I wonder if I didn’t miss it as much because of the sheer number of people I knew in Oklahoma. And because my life changed so drastically while I lived there (mourning our loss, getting a job, getting a different job, having Eriana, etc. etc. etc.). I really enjoy my few friends here, and one with whom I’ve been spending extra time is an absolute joy. And I know that when I get a job, and when I get out more, and as we get more settled we will make friends, and I might be jumping the gun, being so sad and desperate six months in. Maybe it’s just this time of year, too, that’s making me sad.
I guess I don’t really have a point, despite loosely making one a couple of paragraphs ago. So. Good talk.
I realized I’ve discussed this before. Sorry I’m a broken record.