I can't stand women who disrespect the sisterhood in favor of solely BFF'ing guys (who secretly want to sleep with them); or gays (who secretly want to be them). You know those girls who contemptuously boast about banning female friends because they think girls are jealous, catty, gossip mongers? And, while I may have been both an accomplice and victim of the occasional stabbed back, I will forever attest to the glory of girlfriends.
Over the years I've built and maintained solid relationships with some great gals- all of whom are either pretty or talented or successful or engaged, or even worst - all of the above. Obviously, it behooves me to surround myself with such positive women. Birds of a feather flock together, right? The problem is, more often than not I feel like a pigeon flocking with peacocks. Turns out, the awesomeness that initially attracts me to these ladies inevitably starts tugging at my hate strings. Could it be that I am the girlfriend responsible for the platonic pal pandemic I so despise?
Don't get me wrong. I am a damn good friend. When my obnoxiously overpaid homegirl, Penny, overdrafted her checking account, I didn't think twice about wiring thirty bucks, which I desperately needed for my two week lunch supply of Hot Pockets, to get her out of the red. Yeah, I furtively texted, "Penny gotta do better" to another mutual friend when commenting on her reckless spending habits. But did that really outweigh my display of generosity?
When Sandra's boyfriend of five years broke off their engagement, I shared her misery and weight gain by indulging in a three day cheeseburger and whiskey binge with her. Does it matter that while she was spewing tears and tales of a love lost I was doing mental cartwheels because I was tired of trolling the bars for men solo?
I was the first girlfriend on the scene when Lisette gave birth to her baby boy. On top of that, my thirty year old, possibly-barren-self has never missed a Yo Gabba Gabba birthday party since. Big deal if I occasionally joke that the kid looks like the Black Benjamin Button.
I dutifully play my BFF position by smiling, clapping and break dancing for my friends' success- and 89 percent of the time I am sincere. However, I fear that one day, through some strange telepathic or text-reading incident, my girls will discover me secretly gloating at their mishaps and drop me faster than the U.S. fell from from the World Cup (OH SNAP). That situation would not be ideal for me since I have no boyfriend and have never met a guy who could fill my girls' shoes- not even Aisha's size eleven boats. There I go again. But c'mon, she's super creative and Naomi Campbell's doppleganger, so her big feet are much deserved.
My subconscious hating on my friends is a direct reflection of my own shortcomings. There are moments when I feel like a fat guy dating a supermodel anxiously wondering how and why I'm in this relationship, and when it's going to end. "They like me?!" They really like me?!" Despite my sometimes not so friendly displays of friendship, I really like them too, and am truly grateful for having these phenomenal women in my life. To all of the Anti- Girlfriendites - may you someday find friends like mine to help you appreciate the true value of a good girlfriend.
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