So, we were chatting about how things have to change as friends grow in different directions. It's normal, it's necessary, and it's healthy. But that doesn't make it less disappointing. I can't remember the last time I had a sleep-over that involved a midnight snack and a marathon of Anne of Green Gables on VHS; or the last time I fell asleep with the phone glued to my ear because I was chatting until 4am; or the last time I made a Cootie Catcher and became ecstatic when it said I would marry Wil Wheaton and my friend would marry Peter Vidmar. It seemed all I needed was that one, perfect friend.
But as an adult, you need many friends. You need the one who can go to lunch with you, one who will shop with you, one who will drink wine with you, and one who will take road trips with you. Then you need the one who can talk about philosophy, the one who talks about art, the one who talks about health, the one who talks about relationships, the one who talks about travel, and the one who talks about ambition and careers. But you don't really need the one who talks about her cat's new poopy box. She sucks.
And as we were talking, I came to realize this: I don't have that many friends. I still expect my two childhood friends to fill every friendship need that I have. Is that fair? I'm not sure, but when Tina and I walked into the 50's Café, we both had the same memory of going there for a birthday party in junior high. We freaked out together. Of course, our foggy old age dimmed exactly WHOSE party it was...but it made us both so happy to sit with someone who didn't care. That's friendship.
So, I've decided that despite Paris Hilton's shining example, I don't want a posse, an entourage, a band of 14 karat estrogen. All I want is what I had at twelve years old; friends who think I'm cool, friends who eat junk food, and friends who are on board with Anne Shirley and Wil Wheaton.
