“I quit my job.”
“Congratulations!”
The third puts her heart on the job and on the way reports that there are binoculars on sale at Lidl. There is no fourth because he is sleeping. Peta asks who is going to the emergency room with her. I’m sending a photo of a puppy snoring.
This is what a group of my friends looks like.
I created my own Sex and the City. It’s just that we are older, more tired and we talk a lot more about findings than about sex. And some of us are not even from the city.
And when the recommendations start…
When I was younger, I thought female friendships would be like in the movies. Perfumes, shoes, men, cocktails and endless discussions about love. Today it is more like an open psychiatry. We talk much more often about cat food than about lipstick. It is discussed which dog pooped, whose child is not sleeping, who ended up in the emergency room and where the butter is on sale.
The real fun starts when the referrals start. Not for cakes. For medicine. Need something for your thyroid? We have. Hot flashes? We have. Migraines? We have. Sensitive gut? We have three recommendations and two women who have already tried everything.
Of course, there are also those classic themes. Who does good nails. Who should be bypassed in a wide arc. Which hairdresser should you never set foot in again. Sometimes a man slips through, but nothing spectacular. So far, not one has deserved to sit on the throne. In fact, we don’t even gossip about them too much. It’s just a matter of briefly determining who did the stupid thing, who didn’t, and let’s move on. Binoculars and butter are generally more interesting.
Make no mistake, we don’t hate men. Some of us are in relationships. Some in marriages. Some alone. Some have children, some dogs, some cats, and some all of the above. There are six of us in total. Age range from thirty-five to forty-three. Completely different women who, realistically, probably would never have met if I hadn’t somehow accidentally brought them together.
And that’s where we come to the part that fascinates me.
I can’t imagine life without them
I didn’t choose any of them by design. There are no applications. There is no competition. There is no interview for a friend’s job. One happened through work. Second through third person. The third over the dog. The fourth through a completely random conversation. I joined Peta with the others for my birthday and we were never separated.
If someone had asked me ten years ago which women would be sitting in that group, I wouldn’t have guessed a single one. And today I can’t imagine life without them.
And maybe that is the most beautiful part of it all. We were not looking for the same interests, the same taste in men, the same political option or the same lifestyle. We weren’t looking for perfect friends. We were looking for someone who would stay.
When one was sick, the others were there. When the other lost her job, we celebrated. When the third got a job, we celebrated. When the fourth panicked, we listened. When the heel cried, we cried with her.
And somehow, over the years, it happened that women who were supposed to be “just friends” became a family that I did not give birth to.
For years I thought Sex and the City was a show about men. It’s not. It was about women who stay when men leave. About women who know your worst hairstyles, stupidest decisions, failed relationships, diagnoses, fears and insecurities and love you anyway. Maybe even precisely because of that.
Until next time, I wish you at least one such group. There shouldn’t be six of them. One person who will come when it gets crowded is enough. But if you happen upon five or six of them, keep them.
Butter on sale will pass. Such women will not.
Hug,
AND.
