We left on a Thursday afternoon with two suitcases, a bag full of grainy health bars (her choice, not mine), and a sight-seeing itinerary of "let's just wing it." In our minds eye, we were Thelma and Louise - minus the car flying off the cliff at the end (that shit is cray, ladies): just two single gals in their 20s on a roadtrip to San Francisco looking for adventure. But to most everyone else, we were solidifying our reputation as the abnormally close girl friends who act as if they've been married for ten years. Seriously, we get this All. The. Time.
Now, it's become a bit of a joke with us. We acknowledge the fact that we often tell each other's stories as if they were our own. We acknowledge the fact that we can answer the other's question even when they haven't finished their sentence. We acknowledge the fact that we scissor each other constantly (that last part is not true in the least, I just wanted to make sure that you were still reading). Point is, we are both fully aware that, as a result of living together for four years, we have adopted an overtly marital dynamic.
But this is where I raise the question: is it such a weird thing to have this relationship at this point in my life? Occasionally, I'll hear "You two spend too much time together. You need to get a boyfriend," and, while I resent the latter sentence for other reasons, my main issue with this statement is that there is an implication of an either/or situation. That the reason we are so close is because of my deficiency in the Man Department (no, this dept doesn't exist at Lowe's. Believe me, I've looked) or that when you enter into a serious romantic relationship, your friendships can fall to the wayside. I swear, it's Harry Potter all over again: Neither can live while the other survives.*
I turn to people who are actually married and, while I don't like generalizations, I can't help but notice that more and more of these gorgeous couples have slipped into their own bubble - foregoing socialization with other friends to be wrapped up in each other's company in their cozy apartment on a Saturday night.
Now, to be clear, I'm not knocking this. I've been in love before and I've been in that glorious state where all you want to do is watch Scrubs reruns in bed eating pizza together. I get it. But there is a sadness that seeps in when I think of the possibility that I could lose touch with the "scissor sisters" of my life: the ones that I've cried on, gotten sloppy drunk with, watched endless Steve Carell movies on Netflix with, etc. I just don't want to believe that one relationship has to suffer for the sake of strengthening the other.
Will it? Who the hell knows. Maybe someday I'll say "Fuck Balance!" to my social life and hermit up with my future boyfriend like something out of a Nicholas Sparks novel, but for now my hope is, no matter how far down the Love Hole I fall (NTD: change wording here), that I will always make time to pause JD & Turk for some quality bonding time with my dearest gal pals.
Love you, ladies. Thank you for being a friend.
*This is officially the dorkiest comparison I've ever made