He who does not understand your silence will probably not understand your words.(Elbert Hubbard)You guys know by now that I like quotes & that one is one of my favorites. It's also a perfect start for the continuation of my previous post.
After our little falling-out, G (GWA - Girlfriend W/Attitude) and I fell back in - just like we always do. We pitch our little fits because our personalities make us almost complete opposites. BUT G & I will probably always be friends.
That's what I was thinking about when she called me up on Valentine's Day. She was at work. I was at home (and attempting to pack since I'm supposed to be headed to another state in a few weeks). I was busy, frustrated, and surrounded by my life separated into piles of "To Be Sold," "To Be Stored," "To Be Shipped," and "To Be Trashed." I snatched up the ringing phone without checking Caller ID, just ready to take out some of my stress on a telemarketer. The minute I heard G's voice, I forgot everything else. My G was having a crisis.
Like I said, she was at work & she was surrounded by other females who were all cooing over their delivered flowers, candy, and other Valentine's Day loot. Meanwhile, no deliveries had come for her. Not even one of those sweetheart phone calls that can have you floating through the rest of your day. G said that she'd even tried calling her boyfriend to see if he'd gotten the gift she'd sent (a cologne set), but he was either not at work or the receptionist was lying for him. He wasn't answering his home or cell phone either.
Talk about a crisis.
It's bad enough to be single & have to deal with Valentine's Fever at work, but when you're part of a couple... Wow.
Anyway, G and I (always at our best in a crisis) handled the situation. I ordered a delivery of what had to be the last flowers in the state, and when they arrived at G's office, she called me up and talked in such a way that everyone within earshot thought she was thanking someone named "Baby" and "Honey." After work, she came by with wine and cheesecake & we had a great time applauding our combined genius. Her heart & pride was pretty beat up, but I was able to make her smile.
And that's how female friendships survive. Most women don't bond easily with other females, but when we do bond, it's almost unbreakable. This is what I was thinking about as G and I finished the second bottle of wine. And I started thinking that if women had the same criteria for the men we let into our lives as we do for our girlfriends, we'd probably save ourselves a lot of heartache.
I explained this theory to G in that mellow and deeply philosophical way of a person not used to drinking so much wine. G - just as drunk as I - understood me perfectly. We discussed it for a while and I came up with a list of "Relationship Declarations":
I am what I am. I cannot & will not fake being some fantasy woman out of your unrealistic dreams. That's not consistent, healthy, or sane.
You is what you is. Relax and be yourself. I might not like everything about the "real" you, but at least I'll know what I'm getting. I can work with that.
Life is what it is. Life is not going to be one long, perfect, moonlit date with a Grammy-winning soundtrack playing in the background of our relationship. We have to be able to get through the good days and bad.
I finished ticking off these points, then looked over to see if there was anything G wanted to add. I guess not. She was sprawled across my sofa, dead to the world & probably dreaming about killer cheesecakes going after her now ex-boyfriend.
I pulled a blanket out of the "To Be Shipped" pile and draped it over her. When I stumbled to bed, I remained conscious long enough to thank God for the girlfriends in my life. Girlfriends who understand my silence and my words - even when I get on one of my mammy-made rants.
My words for today:"If man & woman could switch places for a day, woman would explore the mind & man would explore the body." (Free 2/2006)
Listening to:"You" (Earth, Wind & Fire - from the album "Love Songs")
Wednesday, February 15, 2006
Mammy-made Rant (Pt II)
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