Ladies Night

I recently got together with the girls.  There were five of us together.  And it was a blast.  After the initial introductions and ice breaking, the hilarity ensued.  I think I might have ruptured a blood vessel laughing so hard.  We all spoke rather freely of things considered taboo in polite society and it was a much needed refreshment.  It also made me wonder why women have such a hard time building relationships with other women.  Or more specifically, why I have a hard time building relationships with other women.   

I have tried to figure it out. I think that I am an acquired taste.  Like olives or red wine.  Try me out once and I might seem bitter, salty or have a harsh aftertaste.  But overlook that initial reaction and give me another try.  You might find that I am complex and deeply satisfying.  Then again, I might not be what you like at all.  I mean, for Pete’s sake, my husband had to meet me twice before he even wanted to talk to me.  But you know what?  After that second meeting, he was hooked. 

I wish that I could go back to one of those past friends and ask them why they dropped out of our friendship.  Most women aren’t going to tell you why they don’t like you/don’t want to be your friend anymore.  And that’s a hard thing to accept.  I would rather know what went wrong and fix it or apologize.  No one likes being rejected.  Right?

But after all my inspection of those previous relationships, what I have come to decide is this…I can’t help but be me.  I am bawdy, cynical, impatient and a Christian.  It’s an odd combination but I have flaws and that is just that.    I actually heard a woman on the radio (she might have been a doctor or therapist of some sort) say that friendships were like dating relationships.  That you were supposed to hide your ugly side, fix your hair and make shallow small talk for the first few weeks.  Honestly, I don’t have time for that kind of effort.  You look past my flaws and I’ll look past yours.  That and a good laugh are about all I have to offer in the effort department.

Women, especially other moms, are going to see me at my worst, more times than not.  You are going to see me yelling at my kids, with blood, sweat and tears (not all mine) on my shirt and you are going to hear me complain about my life at some point.  If all of that is too much information for a fledgling friendship, then oh well.  I think that the women who have stuck it out with me have earned the title friend.  They are worthy of it and I am lucky to have them.  I hope they know that.  I hope they know that I am willing to do whatever it takes to keep them around and if they ever feel I have done anything wrong, they can tell me.  Because just like that red wine, a good friend is often worth the price.