The Underrated Girlfriend
No, I'm not bestowing upon myself the title of girlfriend, and I'm not writing a post on behalf of one of my friends who is in turmoil about her own relationship. This morning's post is about that aspect of my life that tends to go under-appreciated: my own girlfriends.
It is definitely true that women are from Venus and men from Mars. And now that the Curiosity Rover has successfully "zapped a rock," (how that was a headline, I'm not sure) I'm sure we can make several recommendations of men to be returned to their home planet to be likewise zapped. Shall we start with a certain congressman who recently said that women's bodies have the ability to not get pregnant in the case of 'legitimate rape?'
But I digress! My point is that women and men often speak a different language, although we are both speaking English. When communication is at its most challenging, that is when we need to talk to those who speak our own language -- our own girlfriends. Break out the chocolate, the wine, the Ben & Jerry's, the vodka, the mani/pedi sets. Make-up optional, pajamas/sweats preferred.
Last night as I was feeling low, low, low, wallowing in self-pity over a seemingly ignored text and IM, my general text message tone went off. I sighed and reached for my phone. It turned out to be a girlfriend from high school, with whom (thanks to Facebook) I reconnected with a few years ago. While we were pretty good friends in high school, we are even better friends as adults. She'd read my most recent post, where I had begun to convince myself to have a Pity Party, Table of 1, and then move along.
For the next hour or so, we texted back and forth. Her comments and questions helped me sort through things, and helped me broaden some of my interpretations. She is also someone who I can text NSFW expletives to, and she won't think less of me. Our only regret from the conversation is that she lives about 6 hours away, so there's no "hopping in the car and meeting somewhere" for us, especially since the halfway mark is probably some corn field in Iowa.
She is more experienced in dating than I am. She's been married, and is currently in a relationship which is rather complicated. Unlike my mother, God bless her, this friend can give me real world, practical advice, suggestions, thoughts. If only I had the cajones to take all of her advice!
She isn't the only one I am blessed to have in my life. On Facebook, and also at church, I have been increasingly supported by wonderful women (and men, too, albeit to a lesser extent) who genuinely care about me and my life. A bit ago I received a Facebook invite to a karaoke night this weekend, a girl's night with several of the church ladies. The person who invited me assured me that she'd be my drink patron, that I'd have a good time, but not be too drunk that I couldn't do church in the morning. Friends like that are worth more than words can express.
So this morning I did take some of the advice -- sort of -- of my high school friend. She'd suggested texting a picture, playing on some of what I knew, um, interested P. I'm not quite ready to get into that whole "sexting" thing, even if the pic I sent was completely G rated and neither of us are running for political office. Instead I texted a picture of my morning cup of coffee with the following words:
"Is your morning off to an equally good start? Hope you're recovering from your trip. Love to hear from you sometime if you have a chance, but if not, I understand."
You know, keeping that door open in case he's looking for an out. The out I had convinced myself he wanted.
I got an almost immediate reply. Yay! He was on his way to work (translated: driving, can't text) and he offered a brief explanation for the previous day. My short reply ended with "ttyl?" (If you aren't into text shortcuts, that stands for "talk to you later?")
His reply to that seemed to take forever. I'm sure a portion of the polar ice caps melted and a few more species were lost to extinction. The Mars Rover zapped a few more rocks.
Then it arrived as I was driving to work to teach my adorable "active older adults fitness class." One word, one punctuation mark.
"Yep!"
Cue stupid grinning. All is right -- or at least better -- in my wacky world of dating.
It is definitely true that women are from Venus and men from Mars. And now that the Curiosity Rover has successfully "zapped a rock," (how that was a headline, I'm not sure) I'm sure we can make several recommendations of men to be returned to their home planet to be likewise zapped. Shall we start with a certain congressman who recently said that women's bodies have the ability to not get pregnant in the case of 'legitimate rape?'
But I digress! My point is that women and men often speak a different language, although we are both speaking English. When communication is at its most challenging, that is when we need to talk to those who speak our own language -- our own girlfriends. Break out the chocolate, the wine, the Ben & Jerry's, the vodka, the mani/pedi sets. Make-up optional, pajamas/sweats preferred.
Last night as I was feeling low, low, low, wallowing in self-pity over a seemingly ignored text and IM, my general text message tone went off. I sighed and reached for my phone. It turned out to be a girlfriend from high school, with whom (thanks to Facebook) I reconnected with a few years ago. While we were pretty good friends in high school, we are even better friends as adults. She'd read my most recent post, where I had begun to convince myself to have a Pity Party, Table of 1, and then move along.
For the next hour or so, we texted back and forth. Her comments and questions helped me sort through things, and helped me broaden some of my interpretations. She is also someone who I can text NSFW expletives to, and she won't think less of me. Our only regret from the conversation is that she lives about 6 hours away, so there's no "hopping in the car and meeting somewhere" for us, especially since the halfway mark is probably some corn field in Iowa.
She is more experienced in dating than I am. She's been married, and is currently in a relationship which is rather complicated. Unlike my mother, God bless her, this friend can give me real world, practical advice, suggestions, thoughts. If only I had the cajones to take all of her advice!
She isn't the only one I am blessed to have in my life. On Facebook, and also at church, I have been increasingly supported by wonderful women (and men, too, albeit to a lesser extent) who genuinely care about me and my life. A bit ago I received a Facebook invite to a karaoke night this weekend, a girl's night with several of the church ladies. The person who invited me assured me that she'd be my drink patron, that I'd have a good time, but not be too drunk that I couldn't do church in the morning. Friends like that are worth more than words can express.
So this morning I did take some of the advice -- sort of -- of my high school friend. She'd suggested texting a picture, playing on some of what I knew, um, interested P. I'm not quite ready to get into that whole "sexting" thing, even if the pic I sent was completely G rated and neither of us are running for political office. Instead I texted a picture of my morning cup of coffee with the following words:
"Is your morning off to an equally good start? Hope you're recovering from your trip. Love to hear from you sometime if you have a chance, but if not, I understand."
You know, keeping that door open in case he's looking for an out. The out I had convinced myself he wanted.
I got an almost immediate reply. Yay! He was on his way to work (translated: driving, can't text) and he offered a brief explanation for the previous day. My short reply ended with "ttyl?" (If you aren't into text shortcuts, that stands for "talk to you later?")
His reply to that seemed to take forever. I'm sure a portion of the polar ice caps melted and a few more species were lost to extinction. The Mars Rover zapped a few more rocks.
Then it arrived as I was driving to work to teach my adorable "active older adults fitness class." One word, one punctuation mark.
"Yep!"
Cue stupid grinning. All is right -- or at least better -- in my wacky world of dating.
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