A Love Story

Whenever I'm alone with you
You make me feel like I am home again
Whenever I'm alone with you
You make me feel like I am whole again.
However far away, I will always love you.
-Robert Smith, The Cure

I am back from Scottsdale and a long weekend with my girlfriends to celebrate Club 40, and truly, I am almost at a loss for words. (And we all know how rare that is!) How do you describe what it's like to be with people who have known you for nearly 3/4 of your life? In front of whom you will go to the bathroom? Or change your clothes? Or prance around in a bikini? (Knock it off, CH, it's not Whoreticulture Friday yet!) Women who have seen you through:

• Bad boyfriends (we did determine that I didn't have boyfriends so much as guys I stalked)
• Bad haircuts (I give you the 'Flock of Seagulls' shave from 8th grade)
• Bad fashion (knickers, OP shorts, full Dallas housewife rhinestone jewelry)
• Bad decisions ("...but his girlfriend is away at college!" OR "He may live in a trailer with his mother and have mental problems, but he should be okay to buy us beer at night, right?")

Lucky me! I have six of those people! It's like I won the friendship lottery! Except that it isn't like that at all. It's more like being married, or having children. It's damn hard work, and when you stick it out and put your heart into it, it turns into this lifetime commitment of knowing when someone has your back.

My friendship with these women has been much like having my kids. When it's fresh and new, you're unsure of what to do or whom that other person will turn out to be. You're a little awkward. You make mistakes. You hold their head when they are throwing up and you hold their hand when they are sad. You kiss their boo-boos. You get angry when a boyfriend treats them badly. You get mad at their bad choices. You call them on their BS, and then you forgive. You cry at their weddings and births, and then you cry at their breakups and bad luck. You listen. You try to make it all better. In return you get hugs and love in spades. And you think they are the most beautiful, talented, smartest people you've ever known, and by some miracle, they think the same of you.

It's magical. It's rainbows and ponies and falling stars. And then it's awkward, because you go home and you tell your Current Husband (CH - that one is for you, Jen) about some of your conversations, and he becomes alarmed.

ME: "So then I was telling them about how often we have sex, and..."
CH: "You talked about that?"
ME: "Of course! So then I was talking about that position..."
CH: "You talked about specific POSITIONS!?!"
ME: "Duh! You can't talk about sex without talking about positions! And a couple of us had these hilarious stories about dogs in the room during sex..."
CH: "I can't hear any more. I'll never be able to see any of them again."
ME: "Listen CH, you'd better just understand that they know EVERYTHING. But I, too, know everything about them. So it's like a balance of power. They'll never use it against you."
CH: "That's not really the point, Julie. Isn't that between us? Is nothing sacred?"
ME: "It's all sacred, and it's between us and these six other women. And probably their husbands too, because they will probably report it to their spouses like I am with you. And their co-workers and friends, because the husbands will probably tell some of the juicier stories at work. But we'll never meet those people, so don't worry."
CH: "You aren't leaving the house anymore."

So thanks for the mammaries, girls. And know that you make me feel like I am young again. And however far away, I will always love you.
(See? This blog wasn't as bad as you thought it would be. Stay tuned for the next blog, all about breasts, skin tag removal, 350-pound guys in Mexican restaurants, and Heather Cox from ESPN, who is tall and lovely.)