I Always Wanted To Be Claudia

Last night I was wondering why I even bother making new friends.

Lately new(ish) friendships have been hurting me. Just like junior high, it’s never quite possible to make it into the clique, and even if you are accepted, you might be spit out again without notice. Like an amoeba that circles and surrounds an object, but never allows the object to permeate; eventually, the amoeba retracts its embrace, and the object floats alone again.  (I’m a melodramatic nerd, and likely paranoid as well). But…

Where is the group of friends for every occasion? Where are my Kristy, Mary-Anne, Stacey, et al? Where is my Baby-sitters Club?

I’ve got some solid friendships already, but those tend to be singular, and really, those hurt me enough as it is (and I let them down as well).  Why would I want to find a group of people that could hurt me? Why would I risk more relational pain? Heck, why even bother making friends with new individuals?

Well, hopefully because sometimes the risk pays off.

I had the pleasure of having breakfast with a lovely woman this morning. I’ll admit, I’ve been eyeing her at church.  She is quiet and composed and, well, lovely. Outwardly, she seems quite the opposite of me.

Despite apparent contrast, conversation was fluid; she is insightful and funny and open. It could be the start of a beautiful thing.  She even gave me a hug (I wanted one, but didn’t want to initiate, so I’m glad she did).

It may not result in any group inclusion, but perhaps my chances have passed for a Baby-sitters Club anyhow. I need to become okay with that. Maybe I should go read Nancy Drew instead. (Really, follow the link and read that description, the quoted part… who wouldn’t want to be that girl?).

Jennifer