WANTED: BFF

I sat by myself in Relief Society yesterday.

This isn't a plea for your pity, mind you. I'm just sayin'.

First, let me preface: I'll sit by anyone, anywhere, anytime. I'm one of those people at Church who prides herself on greeting or smiling at any person who passes me in the hall. Male, female, old, young, Bishop, nursery leader, Patriarch, Sunbeam. If I make eye contact, I will smile at and/or greet you. And if I don't do any of those things, I'm either doing that with someone else or on some sort of mission to the library for copies or on a "we don't have an accompanist today" salvage.

Our ward demographic is known as "the newlyweds and nearly deads." So, having said that, it's quite obvious our family is kind of... unique. There are families like ours in the ward, with young children. But the majority of those families also have kids older than Malia and have been in the ward for at least a few years longer than we have and have already found their niche' with some other family with kids the exact same age as their own. In fact, Malia is the only child in our ward her age. No other child was born in 2005. What are the odds?! And anyone's child who is even near Lili's age is also usually their youngest (hence the "older kids" reference). Thus, these mommies get together and talk about soccer games and homework and teenage drama. On the other end of the young Mommy spectrum, there are a few women who have recently had their first baby, but it's their first, and so they can't relate to me on the toddler front or even the preschooler front. There's also a surprisingly low number of stay-at-home moms (we do live in the ever-so-expensive Orange County, CA). And then, as I mentioned, the geriatrics and the newly-marrieds.

I'm not implying I can't connect with these people. I'm not saying that you have to be in the exact same season of your lives in order to find something to talk about. (Believe me - I can always find something to talk about with anyone). And as I mentioned before, my outgoing social behavior has made me many friends in the ward. When I walk into Relief Society, I am happy to admit that there can be an empty chair anywhere next to anyone, and I'll be comfortable sitting there, sharing a hymn book, and making silly comments under my breath that make them chuckle. Heck - I'm even ok bawling like a baby while answering a question. That, my friends, is comfort.

But it hit me yesterday, as I walked in a few minutes late (after one of the afore-mentioned errands) and I saw that the women who I have actually gone out with to movies and pedicures during the week had already made themselves home in the back of the room and the majority of all the other chairs were pretty much taken. I walked as inconspicuously as I could up the aisle to the empty front row. And I sat. By myself.

And I felt an overwhelming loneliness.

I am one of those people who makes friends with everyone, but struggles to find that "best" friend. Part of that is heavily-influenced by the fact that my husband is, of course, my best friend, as are my beautiful children. And part of that is the fact that, besides the already formed friendships between women who've been in this ward for a while, quite a few of them are even related to each other. I mean, who can compete with that?!

But part of it is because I'm missing that connection to that one gal. That gal pal who you meet and 15 minutes later you know, "Ok. This one works. We get each other. I can call her in my best and worst times."

In high school, it was Kelly. We were in choir together, and despite her not being LDS, we had very similar morals. She laughed at everything I did (not a necessary prerequisite, but definitely a plus). We could be incredibly silly together, immature even, and we were interested in so many of the same things. There were many late nights watching "Friends," dancing in our rooms, and quoting "Clueless." We even dressed the same (seriously - how many babydoll dresses can a girl have? And who knows how many white pairs of shoes we went through... without socks, of course). We were "untouchable" to boys due to our virtuous reputations and we prided ourselves on that. When we did have boyfriends, we never hesitated to chew each other's significant other out whenever necessary. We had dozens of acronyms that meant special things only to us and we had inside jokes that could fill a novel.



My freshman year of college, it was Alyse. We had been matched together by giving our info. to the institute director in Fullerton. There were 3 of us girls in the same apartment, but poor Jenny didn't have a chance. Alyse and I would stay up until 3 AM putting on productions in our room to Disney CDs. We'd watch X-files together while sitting on a bean bag and bury our faces into each other's shoulders when it got too scary. We both loved being total weird-os at YSA dances. She would listen when, on a bad day, I would sing and play the piano in one of the rooms at the Institute in between classes and would tell me I should take my act on the road. She helped me through heartbreak and taught me how to be boy crazy. We would both giggle when we watched "Felicity." She liked Scott Speedman and I liked Scott Foley, so it worked. We mooched rides off of people together and she was also the influence to the hair color I've now been sporting since I was 18.



Then I went to the Playmill. And there I met Celeste. And I could write an entire post alone on my friendship with her, considering we went through some of the best and worst times of both of our lives together. For two summers, she was my bestest buddy (and, occasionally, my worst enemy). To this day, I cherish the influence of her in my life more that I can truly explain. Two very similar personalities with two very similar easy-to-break hearts. Similar insecurities. Similar egos. And yet, amazingly different. We would laugh hysterically at the stupidest things. People often ran when they saw us approaching together. WARNING - TMI COMING: She is even the only reason I ever learned how to use a tampon. We were always there for each other and also did some pretty mean things to each other (me more than her. Yeah, I suck sometimes). She always forgave me. She had an incredible capacity to not only forgive, but also forget. She always made me feel intelligent, pretty, and talented. And it always felt sincere. Sometimes I like to take credit for the fact that she ever married her husband - who she now has two beautiful children with, I might add. I miss her.



And Daniel. Yeah - I know. He's a guy. But he and I were carbon copies of each other in talent and personality... aside from religion and gender. But we had crushes on the same guys, so that balanced it out. And aside from David, I spent more time with Daniel than anyone else while in Japan. Even though he and I were in the same show and cast, working together every day, we often spent our days off together. And despite his strong opinion that I would be wasting my talent if I went home, got married, and started having babies, he was one of my best support systems when I got homesick, and vice versa. He even carried me out to the taxi and rode with me to the hospital one day when I had some sort of gastro-intestinal attack and David was at work. That's love. His life has taken an incredibly different path from mine, and I can't imagine we'd have too much to talk about now that our parallels have gone perpendicular. But he, truly, was a kindred spirit in that time of our lives.



I thought maybe BFFs vanished when one got married. But I was so grateful to stumble upon Jean & Abby when we lived at Wymount. And I was even more fortunate that their husbands weren't total idiots and Dave liked them. Couple friend dynamics are a tough equation to master. Abby and I had a great bond with our music and she was so laid-back that she was a perfect balance for my antics. And Jean laughed at, literally, everything I said, even when I wasn't trying to be funny. Both of these women are two of the, maybe, 6 people I know who I can truly say are without guile. Plus, Jean and I will always have the Rapids ride at Knott's Berry Farm and Abby's ashes-rising-phoenix-of-an-ex-boyfriend will always be a good laugh (er, wait, that ended tragically, didn't it)? Those women I will cherish for the rest of my life.



But I need someone here. Geographically HERE. Someone I can call when I've had it and need to go to the park with an adult while our kids play so that I can have an intelligent conversation. Someone who saves me a seat in Relief Society because I'm her favorite. Someone who will say, "I've had a crappy day. Let's you and me go and see the dumbest movie out and binge on Coldstone." Someone who I can call, who isn't my mother, when I am struggling through a clinical case of Post-Partum Depression and who will know me well enough to validate for me that, "You're right. You're not yourself. Let's get this checked out. And I'll watch your babies for you so you can see a doctor." Someone who I'm comfortable enough with to cry to about my insecurities with my post-baby weight or my offensive inability to censor myself or my eco-centric need for attention... and loves me anyway.

Who isn't my husband (sorry, babe).

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Anyone want to apply?