Tag Archives: growing up

Friendships Age Too

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Everyone always talks about romantic relationships and how difficult they are–the compromising, the settling, how hard it is to be single, how hard it is to be married, blah blah blah.

No one ever really spends too much time gabbing about how difficult friendships can be. Friendships are supposed to be easy, right? Comfortable, lasting longer than any romantic relationship you’ve ever had. I guess that used to be true.

Somewhere around Real Adult Life (not Fake Adult Life), you realize how tough friendships can actually be. Hangouts no longer consist of last minute happy hours that turn into long, carb-filled dinners that turn into late-night pillow talk and accidental sleepovers. Hangouts now have to be planned weeks in advance. Alcohol and carbs are out because someone is on an insane diet. Late nights and accidental sleepovers are out because someone has to wake up early for work or get home ASAP to a baby or a husband or a boyfriend. Suddenly, you’re not a priority in their life anymore–you’re third or fourth fiddle, at best.

At some point, jobs and men, raises and promotions and…men became more important than keeping up with what you’ve been cooking for dinner or watching on Netflix…GASP?! It’s normal, I know. But that doesn’t make it suck any less.

The worst part is, you want to be happy for them, you TRY your damnedest to be happy for them…but mostly, you just feel deflated. There was a time in my life when I talked to my friends every day (usually multiple times a day). Questions like, “Hey, did you wind up buying that necklace?” have turned into “Hey, how’ve you been?”

I’ve never been one of those 27 Dresses types–I’ve always had a close-knit pack of two or three women who were more like sisters to me. I’m currently down to…one. Insert the *eek!* emoji. Yeah. One bestie who keeps up with my woes pretty well–not like she used to, but still pretty well.

Is it because she and I are the only single ladies of the once-wolf-pack? Perhaps. But more likely, it’s because we’ve been best friends since we met in middle school, when she saw me bleeding from my knees and lip and asked if I was OK (ridiculous Spanish Dancing Club incident). Hopefully, she’ll be my person forevs, but let’s be real…she could turn into a Husband-Hungry villain at any moment… That, folks, will be the day I adopt a handful of pets and babies or move to an island and live out the rest of my days befriending only coconuts.

Anyway, I’m getting off track here, I apologize. I have a few acquaintance-types who are fun, but they’re seeking the same thing I am–people to fill in the gaps leftover by once upon a time best friends, sisters. It’s great to have people who you can share a meal with, but it’s crazy to feel like you don’t have anyone to tell the deep, dark stuff to.

It can be pretty lonely, here in adulthood. No wonder people kept getting married even after property promises and dowries weren’t a thing anymore–it’s the only way of ensuring that you won’t slip and die in the shower, your remains left rotting under an enormous water bill for weeks. I kid, I kid.

How do we keep friendships, even after X, Y, or Z? How do we balance other life obligations with these people who know way too much about us? How do we remain understanding, even after being shoved aside to make room for “more” or “different” or “better”?

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Twenties

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How long can you shop at Forever 21? How long can you listen to Taylor Swift’s genius “22” and really connect with the lyrics? How long can you, with a flip of your hair and a giggle, say, “Oh it’s ok, I’m in my twenties!”? These are the questions that women everywhere have been asking themselves for thousands of years…

I’m technically in my mid-twenties (soon to be a complete quarter of a century) and I just gotta say…DOIHAAAAVETOGROWUPPPP???

I’ve said numerous times that I can’t wait til I’m 30—I feel like by then, I’ll have a lot of shit figured out, I’ll have a stable job that I love, and hopefully a man… But in all honesty, I just have no interest in being boring or responsible. I don’t want to have kids, I don’t want to buy a house, and I don’t want to shop at Dress Barn (although my mom’s been trying to buy me stuff from there since high school).

I guess getting older has nothing to do with that really. There are plenty of people who choose to never grow up. But I don’t want to be a beach bum nor do I want to marry one. I want to have it all, basically. My cake, eat it, the whole enchilada. I want to be young and carefree and stupid but I want paychecks and vacations and nice things. This screams twenties. You can have BOTH…it’s amazing.

I want to make out in a bar if I so please and blame it on too many vodka cranberries (TWENTIES). I want to go on Weight Watchers and use all my points one day on Coronas and cookies and then eat nothing but fruits for the rest of the day (TWENTIES). I want to semi fall in love a million times only to brush off the mere memory of a boy with a scornful purse of my lips (TWENTIES). I want to try out new places, new people, new hair colors, new jobs…without worrying about my future (TWENTIES). I want to go on more trips like my Contiki where I was alone, the only American, surrounded by crazy Aussies and had the time of my life (TWENTIES). I want to do more couch surfing (TWENTIES).

I want to do a lot of things in the next five years that to me, constitute as “Ah, to be in your twenties.” But I also think maybe it’s about finding friends (and a partner) who want to do those things with you forever…Twilight drinking games, reading scandalous Cosmo articles out loud in sexy voices, pancakes for an appetizer, playing never have I ever, skinny dipping…all in your 80s. That would be awesome.

That WILL be awesome 🙂