The friendship of women

Annemarie's contribution:

The Friendship of Women

Apprehensive and somewhat scared Sarah, short and a little tubby,  waited with her mother in the school playground. The family had arrived back in England after her father had finished a 5-year contract in India.  Mother and daughter  stood out,  bronze-faced and with  sun-bleached hair amid  the other girls with their pale English winter complexions.  She was so obviously   the only new girl arriving mid-term. Then a smiling red-headed girl swung her school bag over her shoulder and approached Sarah.

« You must be the new girl the teacher said would be joining our class. I'm Melanie , come with me.»...

So began a friendship between the two ten-year old girls which lasted through all their school years. Melanie was the girl everyone wanted to be friends with and although Sarah was noticeable for her silver-blonde hair in all other respects she was quite a plain Jane.  Sarah bathed in the glory of Melanie's friendship, happy to help her friend with homework. They both went to riding school on Saturdays and sometimes to the odd gymkhana, giggled over first boyfriends and later both went to the same universities, Melanie studying fashion design and Sarah biotechnology.

Although they led very different lives, both social and academic, they made sure to meet once a fortnight for a day in town, where Melanie advised Sarah what clothes to buy - after all it was her thing. Then they would have a pizza or Mexican meal for a good gossip and catch-up on each of their lives, loves and work.

When Melanie married she walked up the aisle resplendent in cream silk, her titian hair in a sleek chignon and Sarah her bridesmaid, perhaps a little too well-endowed for the sleek apricot silk dress.  Sarah was the doting 'aunt' to Melanie’s two children, happy to baby-sit when Melanie and Alec  had to attend  first nights, her husband being something to do with theatre land.

Much of the time Sarah had to fly abroad to oversee environmental issues in remote regions and it was on one of these occasions that she returned with her own six-foot-, rugged Indiana Jones and the announcement that she and Louis were getting married.

Of course her best friend was matron-of-honour and the two children pageboy and bridesmaid. For Sarah it really was one of the best days of her life; still a little plump she looked radiant beside the love of her life.  The years that followed saw the two families enjoying dinners together and weekends away with their children . They confided in each other, commiserated when each of them lost their mother  and when  Sarah accepted an offer to work on a new environmental project it was to her best friend she turned for help with Sarah’s two young children.

Yes , of course, Melanie was happy to collect and take Sarah's children to primary school until Louis or Sarah could pick them up. What were friends for? For two years the arrangement worked brilliantly for both friends, Melanie looking after the children in Sarah's home three days a week and in return Sarah cooked both families a huge Sunday lunch - Melanie’s day off...

As  Sarah mixed the botulinum toxin ( undetectable and leading to paralysis and a s-l-o-w death) into Melanie's cup of coffee she smiled grimly and thought how ironic it was that this selfsame poison was in the Botox which plumped up her best friend's beautiful lips, those same lips she had seen just a few days ago,  so passionately kissing her husband on their marital bed while the children played laughed and jumped on the trampoline in the garden.

Paula's contribution:
 

I had a writing assignment due in two days, and I was flummoxed. As a journalist, I was used to looming deadlines, and writing up to the last minute was pretty much standard practice. But this time, I was starting to feel a little panicky. My brain had gone blank.

Obviously, I needed some help. So, I sat down at my computer and opened my email program. I selected six of my closest friends, one in Paris and the rest scattered across the United States, and I asked each of them: What is it about a woman’s friendship that is so special?

It’s a busy world out there, and these women have many, many things pulling at their time. Some are still working professionals, some are mothers, grandmothers, wives, community volunteers. Not only that, but my request landed in their inboxes the day before Mother’s Day in the U.S., a day many of these women would be celebrating with their families, and probably not exactly in the mood to ponder a somewhat philosophical question from a friend a continent away, much less sit and write down their thoughts.

But they did. Their answers came fast and furious.

Donna, in New Orleans, was first. “I count on my best women friends to hear me, to know when to give advice, and to know when to say nothing, usually because I am wrong!” she wrote. “They listen to all my crazy talk, silly talk and boring talk. They attend the pity parties I give myself. They listen when I am angry and venting, and yet they still love me. In exchange, I am the person who will never forgive anyone who has done them wrong.

“Trust is everything,” Donna said. “Losing that is misery. So, I vow to the women I love that you can trust me, absolutely.”

Esther, writing from a suburb of New Orleans, and concise as always, said, “A woman’s friendship means you have someone you can share your inner thoughts with. Woman to woman is understanding.”

Nathalie, the Parisienne, had more to say. “A woman's friendship is very particular and unique,” she wrote. “Two friends are actually like sisters. They do not need to talk to each other; they understand each other and feel the same things. They know they must be the ones to manage everything in all areas, including the world of work, which is dominated by men. They are also the heart of the family.” She continued, “The physical side also plays an important role, because only women understand the hormonal changes we go through.” But perhaps one of the most significant things about the special bond between certain women, she said, is that they can go a long time without seeing each other, yet when they meet again, it is as if they had seen each other the day before.

Debbie, writing from Columbus, Ohio, had something similar on her mind. “I like this question because it really makes me think about something that seems to come naturally,” she wrote. “Women can be very critical and judgmental, especially in the early stages of a friendship, but I love my women friends because they don’t judge me, and they are always willing to listen. I feel with my women friends, I can say anything. I can tell my deepest secrets, and I know I can trust them. Once you have a good friend like that, you never lose her. Even though we might be separated for years, it is exactly the same as if we never parted. I don’t know what I would do without my women friends, because that’s all I’ve really got right now.”

Maribeth, in the mountains outside Denver, Colorado, wrote that although she feels her truest friends have always been men, her friendships with certain women are very special to her. “We have our different beliefs, and yet they accept me unconditionally,” she said. “We agree to disagree, and that’s that!  From the very first time I met them, I felt a special connection.”

In short, she said, “You can be at your best and your very worst, and they still love me and will always be my friends.”

Liz, in northern California, thanked me for asking her to reflect on such a great subject. “The friendships I have with women are very important to me,” she wrote. “I have women friends spanning 20 years younger to 30 years older than myself. We share our joys and our sorrows. Many of us have children, and sharing events from our kids’ lives with one another, and asking advice, is always a part of the conversation.

“As wonderful as my relationship with my husband is,” Liz continued, “I definitely feel that my women friends are a part of my life that rounds out the rough parts and brings me comfort and joy. There are things that a man just doesn’t understand. Part of that is physical -- bearing children, having different equipment – but part of it is emotional. Sometimes, guys just don’t get it, and a woman friend immediately does. Must be the way we are wired.” 

Liz happened to be hosting a girls’ night the evening she received my email request, and she was excited to ask her gal pals what their thoughts were on the subject. Here’s a sampling of what they contributed:

It is a very important part of my life for fulfillment. I need more than just my husband.  Camaraderie, non-judgmental, no one takes offense.

Another of Liz’s friends said: I could not live without my women friends. I feel safe with them. We are together through the seasons of life. 

A third contributed: My best girlfriend is my touchstone. We have the same outlook on life. She is like a sister to me. Women are lucky because we let down and share. Men don’t do that.

Another said: My really good friends are much more sincere and honest. With men, we are a little on guard. Men think less of us and it creates a distance. 

And then: My friendships with women are the most important relationship I have — more than the ones we have with our spouses. Women are the ones we rely on in times of trial and tribulation. There’s something about exchanging stories of our lives with women that resonates with our hearts. Sharing our lives in a close way with a lack of judgment … we all understand that we’ve all been there, and we support one another.

By the morning of the day my assignment was due, I was ready to write, and I had learned something very important about my women friends. They are passionate, they are smart, they are loyal to me, and they are ready to help at a moment’s notice. Here’s the truth: I never could have completed this without the friendship of women.

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Jackie:

  Imagine three girls of 15 years old sitting on a school yard wall swinging their legs and giggling their heads off.   Telling silly jokes - bumping shoulders - nudging knees, elbows  and making fun.    On the other side of this wall was the  boys changing room.   It was break time at school and we were sharing our lunch boxes  as always - drinking coke and eating our peanut butter and jelly sandwiches  - crunching our apples and equally dividing up our chocolate bars or cake from home. 
Our main conversation was “boys”   All three of us were obsessed.   Though we had never held hands, been walked out,  or even been near to having a smoochy kiss.

Oh what fun we had - watching those boys come out of their changing rooms to go play soccer or tennis.   Commenting on their gangly bodies, hairy legs and uncoordinated style.      Luckily for us we never liked the same type of boy.     Kris who was originally from Norway had quite a classic look with short hair and already mature figure loved smallish boys with blond hair - Ann,  small dark Ann, who had  severe acne but the darkest brown eyes you have ever seen - preferred a nondescript  specimen - those with braces on their teeth and hair in their eyes.   I always went for the show off - the loudmouth - the one with all the girls around him.   The football star - the A student.    Of course it was hopeless me tall like a beanpole and chest  like  a pancake attracted no one.   But the fun was in dreaming.

After school I would rush home and spend the next two hours on the phone;   yes,  to those same friends - talking about everything under the sun but especially boys.   We had BBQ’s at each others houses, picnics, expeditions into our suburban gardens, ice cream tastings and pyjamas parties.   We bonded as one,  a complete friendship.     My,  how we tittered and chattered on the phone - with parents complaining in the background that “wasn’t it about time we finished our homework” or get off that “damn phone”    I felt safe with these friends - girls I could rely on - tell secrets, confide and most of all be myself.      We wrote lengthy  letters to each other at weekends or on holiday and on the final day of school  long epistles of love were scribbled in our yearbooks.  

Time changed our bodies.  Kris became more maternal,  she budded out and Ann and I stared at her wishing it would happen to us.   Boys were looking at her,  taking an interest.   Ann and I looked on looked on with envy.  

Then the inevitable happened.   Kris went out with a boy.     Yes,  she had a date and after we pestered her to give out the details became more distant and grown up.     Then Ann during a talent contest at school discovered her amazing singing voice and from that day onwards was surrounded by admirers.   She went steady with a boy from class and had no time for “girlfriends”. 

 
 We had vowed never to forget each other and always stay in touch but life took us on separate journeys  -  I for one often look back at those good times,  happy to have experienced such closeness and companionship and especially to learn and develop all through my life about this freedom that only girlfriends can offer us.

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Eve' story

Women are great friends as far as I'm concerned.  Who but a friend would ride in my car, reminding me, that their life is in my hands, Why?   I am a good driver, had some mishaps, who doesn't.   My friends actually fear getting in my vehicle and I know they are praying to God I'll stay on the road and not end up in the ditch like last week (aqua planning) and I was driving slow.   My friends have a heart of gold, still riding along after many years, with fear in their hearts and eyes.   Nobody but a true friend would put up with that ordeal, never knowing if they'll come back from the outing.    I cherish my friends, their grit, fearlessness and love for me, never knowing how everything will end but we are still all here, in one piece.
Friends are marvelous, ready to comfort and help in life's hard moments, with everything collapsing around you.   Your friends will be there, cheering you up, making life not so bleak, leaving you with hope for the future.   What would we do without the wonderful women we call our friends.