As a woman in my late 20s (I had to cop to it sometime), it is hard for me to admit that I get lonely. A lot. My husband is my best friend and I love him for it, but sometimes I crave more.
My best friend since middle school – we served as each other’s maid of honor then matron of honor – moved 13 hours away about four years ago. What was once skyping and phone calls has devolved to Facebook comments and the occasional text message. I miss her.
The handful of friends I made before MJ was born were a few years younger and still in college when we met. Once our place of work closed, they went their separate ways. Well, from me that is. They are still friends; in fact they all live together. I miss getting together on Thursday nights to watch Grey’s Anatomy and just chit-chat.
My sister lives extremely close by, but we are so completely different that although we get along, we don’t hang out. She likes to party and get a little tipsy. I much prefer a different kind of evening. I love her because she is my sister, but I wish she were my friend.
After being with CJ for nearly eight years, he has finally convinced me to give up on his sister being my friend. I didn’t even get a chance to know enough about her to see if we would get along before she expertly and completely shut me out.
CJ tries to reassure me that once MJ, Q, and the new baby are older, I will find some of what he calls “mom friends.” I see his point about running into more woman my age with more in common, yet I feel he severely overestimates my ability to make friends.
This whole entry sounds so depressing…I promise to no longer go on a Friends binge while hormonal.