Reflections on Female Friendship Part One

I’m currently reading Loretta Lynn’s new book about her friendship with Patsy Cline. It’s called “Me & Patsy Kickin’ Up Dust.” Last night I watched the film Booksmart for my second time and just felt like I needed to spend some time reflecting on female friendship. 

 Someone who will always accept for you who you are, will help you, who encourages you. I’ve always felt fucked up by this, wondering if the reciprocity can truly be met. For as long as I can remember there has been something guarded about my friendships with women. Standing at the edge of this wall, never jumping at the same time. 

My best friend in high school had a talent for making me feel small—I was the Teller to her Penn. It took a close friend to die in order to realize what friendship was, who I wanted in my life and who I did not. So, when I read about these magnificent friendships or see them depicted as entertainment I crave that kind of dependability. 

In my later years, I learned or should I say spent more time thinking about past toxic friendships. I had thought about the friend from college who I took to my grandmother’s pool and she asked me if I was going to wear a two-piece bathing suit. When I said yes, she was not subtle about implying if I could wear one then so could she. I have thought about this same friend when I drive down a certain street in my neighborhood. I remember her trying to tell me a story while I was driving through a narrow road. When I told her to put her story on hold because I couldn’t concentrate she said, “I didn’t realize driving and talking were multitasking for you.” The next morning, we would go shopping for a new bong for her boyfriend who had beat her a couple nights prior. When I changed my cellphone number a month later I did not tell her.

I often think of my friend Kate who died three days before her 20^th birthday and how I had only seen her in passing the week before.  We hadn’t spoken in two years. In high school, she had gone to The Galleria during lunch to buy me a CD single of S Club 7’s “Never Had a Dream Come True” to cheer me up. An asshole named Chad had broken my heart and decided to go to prom with someone else.

When she died, everything I knew about female friendship was gone. My best friend, Penn, showed no sympathy or empathy. She too had been friends with Kate. Penn didn’t come to the visitation or the service. A different female friend from high school told me she was mad at Kate because she thought what she had done was selfish. I was fucking livid and choking on my teenage tears. 

            

If you have had any experiences like these, I would like to hear from you. I have more to write and will continue to keep writing about female friendships because it is an endless conversation that is rare and necessary. Let’s be kinder to each other.