Why Aren’t we Best Friends?

We’ve spoken a lot over the past few years/months. I like you. You laugh at my jokes. I have a lot of fun with you and you seem to have a lot of fun with me.

So why aren’t we Besties?

I’ve evaluated this in my mind several times. Here’s some possible answers I’ve thought could possibly apply:

We live far, far away.

This is a lot of my problem, of course. Because we move so frequently. So I have family back home who has grown up and matured into these wicked cool people (Or at least it seems like it on Facebook, ha) who I’d love to take for drinks. But I live 6 hours away. And we don’t know each other well enough for them to want to come out to visit me. And when we come into town, we, as my dad says, jam about 10 pounds of shit into a 5 pound bag. (We’re really busy… in case that metaphor wasn’t clear.)

Then there’s the high school people I knew and lost touch with but now (again, on Facebook) seem really freakin’ cool. And I want to go with them on their fun adventures. I want to experience their crazy antics first hand. I get real sick of not really knowing people I want to know because of distance.

You’re waaaaay cooler than I am.

Yeah, I’m awkward as shit. I’ve said it before and I will say it again. Because I really am. I tried to get the number of my daughter’s favorite friends so that they can play together over the summer and when I asked the moms I somehow worked into the conversation a clumsy reassurance that I was asking for my daughter’s sake not my own. I wasn’t hitting on them, promise. Not that I wouldn’t hit on them if I weren’t married. Or straight. They’re clearly very pretty. And then I realize what I’m saying and close with a “Oh, fuck, nevermind. I’ll text when Dani’s party is coming up.”

So I’m pretty sure those people aren’t my new best friends. Neither, unfortunately, is the lady we’ve moved from base to base with, who I think is the coolest thing ever. She seems to like me ok. But there is no disputing that she and I aren’t the same kinda gal. She has like, designer clothes but doesn’t act snobby about it. High fashion is just a casual way of life for her. She is always put together. When bad shit happens to her, she bounces right back. When bad shit happens to me, I scream and cry and wallow for entirely too long. … That’s not an exaggeration. And if I had designer clothes, I’d be uppity as shit. “Did you see my f@cking pants today? Mmmhmm. They’re _______.” (I literally can’t even think of a designer name right now.) This woman even has a beautiful voice and flawless skin. She is definitely cooler than me. I am, on a good day, her like, B Team friend. (And I kinda feel lucky to be that.)

I’m waaaaaay more crass than you.

It’s a pretty likely scenario, to be honest. I’m usually the most crass in my circle of friends. I can’t really handle more crass than me. I live, pretty much, AT MAX. So I say the grossest thing I’m amused by. And drink as much coffee as I can before getting the shakes. Or eat candy until I want to puke. And cuss as much as I can without making people cringe… But I need to do it once before I know where a line is. So I have to push. I have to gauge your max, too. If I can’t make you cringe, it gets awkward for me. Anything further than where I go is uncomfortable for me. The most insane I can deal with is my own insanity. You can be as crazy, loud and crass as me, but any more and I just get scared. So by that argument, I’m sure there are loads of people whom I’ve eliminated myself from the running on day one. It’s ok. I understand it. Everyone has their max.

I have little kids.

Yep. I’m not above it. I’ll blame the kids. Maybe you don’t like my kids. (Hey, it’s fair. I have plenty of people whom I like but don’t hang out with because their kids are miserable little shits. I know it happens. So I’m not going to lie to myself and say no one could ever think that of mine. ) Hell, I grew them, popped them out and made their personalities what they are … And I still don’t always like them. They have more drama than a van full of drag queens on the way to a wig sale. (But I have to do all. their. hair.)

Or maybe you don’t have kids; you don’t necessarily mind mine,  but you don’t like hanging with kids. And while my kids are awake… they’re with me. They’re the perfect little friend blockers. They’ve been blocking mommy’s fun in all kinds of ways since they were born, I’m used to that by now.

I am stuck in the acquaintance zone.

I do hate the stupid “friend zone” term. It implies that a man only wants a good time and if the girl chooses not to sleep with him, he’s being punished with her friendship. Which is utter bullshit. That being said… I totally feel like, from time to time, I get “punished” by being held at arms length; stuck in the acquaintance zone. (Although I’m ok with owning that I totally deserve it sometimes.) Plus, I’ve tried to play friend matchmaker before and I’ve heard some people say things like, “I have enough friends” or “I can barely keep up with the friends I do have.”

To which I say, Whaaaa?!

You have all kinds of friends for all kinds of reasons. You change a bit everyday. So keep collecting more. I’m not saying ignore quality in favor of quantity but I don’t see the downside, here. Make friends with people who are fun to be around. More friends = more fun. And make friends with people who make your heart warm and light. More friends = less stress. Plus, if you’re batshit crazy (like me) and you gather up a bunch, then the chances of every one being annoyed with you at the same time go down, statistically.

I do have friends. But…

I really do think you can never have too many. And I don’t have a lot of local friends. So I need to either break into these people’s lives and make them love me (AKA get them drunk) OR I need more friends at a distance who are willing to come visit (AKA get them drunk for a loooooong time).


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