How many times have I heard it from people on Facebook? I’m in a crowd of people and still feel so alone. I AM one of those people. Always have been, and I guess always will be. Unfortunately, I come to friendships and circles of friends a tad too late to be considered anybody’s best friend. Someone always occupies that space already. How dare I even consider trying to be more than just a runner-up? How dare I even hope that there’s room in someone’s heart for more than one best friend?
It may sound foolish and grade school-ish to you, but I must say, it certainly doesn’t feel that way to me. I know that I’m my husband’s best friend. I know that I’m loved by my children and they enjoy hanging out with me. I know that I like myself enough to be my own best friend, but that gets monotonous, especially after all these years.
I’ve known friends for 25 years now. Got drunk with them, laughed with them, listened to them when they were sad or frustrated or to soothe them as they complain about others. Missed them terribly once I moved away. And still, I have learned, that 25 years has yet to put me in the “best friend” category. Those spots are still taken, and there’s still no room at the inn.
I realized this conundrum last year, after having moved to Arizona 8 years ago, and when it came to making friends through my writing. Everyone seemed to have made their “best friends” pairings or groups and I was the newest add-on. Liked, appreciated, maybe even loved, but never yet considered a “best friend.” I never dreamed I would have to face that reality with friends I’ve had for 25 years.
So, what’s the magic potion? What’s the password? And what the hell do I do now? I grieve for the loss of a perceived place I thought I’d finally earned in the circle. Then, I pick myself up by the bootstraps, kick this girl in the ass, and search for the one person, the one woman on this earth who at our ripe old age hasn’t quite found her “Number 1” yet either. Is she out there?
I have no fucking clue. But I’ll be damned if I’m not gonna continue searching for someone else who’s been passed over, like me. Someone who’s looking to call each other “MY PERSON”, like Christina and Meredith in Grey’s Anatomy. Someone who doesn’t think twice about recognizing our relationship as a cut above the others.
Until then, I shall continue on as I have- smiling and laughing, and enjoying friendships, but knowing my place. Heck, I’m a fiction writer. I can write myself into one hell of a story where I have exactly what I’ve always sought. I can create my own HEA.