Best Buddies

Bro Bro asked today if I had a best friend. I didn't have an immediate answer. It sure feels like I have a best friend, but I don't know who that is. Isn't there someone you pour out your soul to, Bro Bro asked.

I guess I share the most with The Man. He could be my best friend. But there are also a lot of things I don't share with him. I think it's not fair, and it would be unreasonable, to expect one person to be best friend, companion, provider, spouse, lover, father to The Boy, and love of my life. I wouldn't put this burden on him in the same way I wouldn't want him to see me as saint, friend and whore. I can be all of those, but not to the same person at the same time. I like me some variety.

And I am not sure I do a lot of soul pouring any more.

When you are young, you need friends to confide in, get feeback from and just bounce your thoughts and attitudes off as a self-discovery process. But as you age, you devise coping strategies as part of your life experience and skills. I can't think why I would want to burden my sandwich-generation friends with my peculiarities. That's what my therapist is for.

With my friends, we talk about what's happening in our lives. Not surprisingly, we share many concerns and experiences - from work, or the lack of, to our spouse, children, and parents, to who we are as women. We acknowledge and share our problems and happiness, we offer each other advice and support, we joke about ourselves, we ask after each other often, we get together to do things as often as our schedules permit. But we try not to get pre-occupied by our problems (because we have so many things to tend to) and we don't use each other as dumping grounds (because we know we each have enough going on).

I think there is an internal stability that comes with age. So now as mature women, when we break through and share a little more than usual, it's truly a precious moment.