My little friend

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Friendships are funny. They can be confusing and all-consuming. I sometimes wonder if all species bother with making friends. Like… do gecko’s spend thursday nights on the roof with their family but saturday night out partying on the grass with their homie G’s? (G is for Gecko- obviously). I really hope they do.

I guess friendships fall somewhere in the void between family and partners. Maybe they are modern day substitutes for both. Perhaps back in the old days when you married your handsome wood-chopping suitor at 15 and spent your time plucking the chicken and going to market, perhaps then, friends were purely ornamental. People to pluck the chicken for and wear your new petticoat in front of. I’m not sure.

All I know is in this day and age, the age of suitors coming and going like a train to the Brisbane Airport (don’t worry mother, that was purely a metaphor), in the age where families have left the farm and are widespread across the globe, friends have really had to step up their game.

I have a number of completely excellent people in my life. They are my first point of call when the going gets rough. When Facebook displays an ex having dinner with some sort of Penelope Cruz. When I need a beach buddy. When I want to cook risotto. When I’m sad, mad, angry, happy, ecstatic, or nuts.

I’ve made some shocking mistakes before. I have disappointed and betrayed and let boys fragment the Sista-Hood. All of these documented and learned from. (Refer to Lessons Learned the Long Way Round). However recently it seems, quite the opposite. I seem to resided myself to a life of mateship. Friends First, BFF’s 4 lyfe, Powerpuff Girls, Chicks before…. Nicks, etc etc etc.
(Sidenote – my real Nick is in fact a BFF 4 lyfe himself. I just didn’t want to use a rude word)

I discovered the other day, that the person I have shared a bed with CONSECUTIVELY, for the LONGEST PERIOD OF TIME is in fact, my friend. I am 24. Been in… let’s say numerous… relationships… one serious one… and yet still… it’s a girl who I have slept next to for the longest! A girl and two stuffed animals.
The record before this, was in fact another girl in boarding school I figured out. Term 2 grade 12. We made a double out of two singles so we could have more “craft” space on the floor. Brilliance.

I should point out here I am not a lesbian. I’m definitely into anything resembling Ryan Reynolds, BUT this doesn’t change the fact, that despite almost 10 years of dating, girls still reign victorious.

I don’t worry what to text my friends. I can sound as cray-cray as batshit. With guys, we are already fighting an uphill battle. As far as they are concerned we are all crazy until proven otherwise. (Fair call I guess)

Anyway. I think that may be the reason Gecko’s go party on the Grass, or maybe why ol petticoat Penny back in old days was so depressed, or maybe why we don’t NEED a Mr Darcy anymore. Because the substitutes have taken over. They are nicer, easier to live with and much prettier 99% of the time.
None of my boyfriends ever wanted to do Karaoke Beyonce Lipsyncing before bed. Rachel did. None of my boyfriends let a random Fijian child sleep between us. Rachel did. She even made the bed in the morning. Winning.

I’m not saying boys don’t have their good points. They can be quite handy sometimes. I just think we aren’t leaving much space for them anymore and that’s totally fine by me.

If I want to wear a tiara on the beach and drink vodka cruisers in genie pants I don’t need some chunk of muscle getting embarrassed. I want someone to do it with me. I think this is where friends are winning the world over, time and time again.

Xxx

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