Yesterday, my friend Kate and I were lounging around having a lazy day of movies, snacks and Chinese food. Knowing I was a bit under the weather, Kate brought a couple of DVDs over, and, because she's just that kind of friend, made sure to bring me two of my Hollywood boyfriends--Ryan Gosling and Jason Segel. Gosling's film, The United States of Leland (2004), was a somewhat disappointing indie flick despite the stellar cast. Segel's, however, something I've seen a ton of times, cracked us up and made up for the weirdness of the other. And it is precisely this kind of movie--the comedy you've seen so many times you can anticipate dialogue--that allows for that perfect blend of paying attention and zoning out to chat.
I Love You, Man is about a guy named Peter (played by another Hollywood cutie, Paul Rudd) who, for a variety of reasons, doesn't have a lot of male friends; this makes filling out his side of the bridal party for his upcoming wedding a little difficult, and he sets out on a mission to make at least one close guy friend. Aided by his gay brother (my SNL hearthrob, Andy Samberg), his fiance, and even his mom, he begins going on "man-dates." After several flubs, he meets Sydney Fife (my boyfriend Jason) and they begin this sort of whirlwind best friendship. This newly budding friendship follows a typical trajectory of a courtship--this movie is sort of a homoerotic romantic comedy, after all; they don't call it a "bromance" for nothing--which, naturally, involves a breakup and make up just in time for Peter's wedding. Aw.
Silly? Yes, a bit. But it's also a pretty accurate portrayal of that very strange position we all find ourselves in sometimes--making a new friend. The focus of this movie, is, of course, male friendship, but Kate and I agreed that the overall idea certainly applies to the terror of making new girlfriends, too. In fact, with the exception of the fight/breakup that Peter and Sydney go through, this is exactly what happened to me last year when I first moved to Columbus.
Only one other person began my teeny-tiny graduate program full-time last fall. There were a couple of women who were full-time but ahead of us credit wise, and there were also a couple of girls who started part-time. However, only BP and I were enrolled full-time and at the same point in our academic career. Because of this, we were in several classes together and slowly began to get to know each other by default. And...it was a lot like dating. We both admit now how nervous we were; we didn't want to appear too eager--what if she doesn't like me?--but also secretly were hoping we would get along and become besties. We even talk about the start to our friendship like couples tell the story of how they met: retracing those first, tentative attempts to reach out, our first outings, and finally, that moment that cemented how "we knew."
It began with meeting for tea with the two women significantly ahead of us in the program. We wanted to get the inside scoop on professors and classes and also get a better sense of how to navigate the program as a whole. Later, our small program had a gathering at a professor's house to start the new academic term, and I drove her home. I picked out her email address from a group mailing that had gone around and nervously hit "send" for that first electronic reach-out. We exchanged phone numbers and started to text occasionally. I invited her to an 80s dance party that a meet-up group was hosting. She invited me out to dinner with her and her boyfriend so I could meet him, too. We started alternating who brought tea to our 4:30 classes, and then began carpooling, too, rotating who drove and who paid for Starbucks. That fateful moment when our friendship was cemented came during class one day, when her red cowboy boot got stuck on her foot and she asked me to help yank it off so she could adjust her sock. I mean--how can you not be friends with someone after you help pull off a problematic shoe?
After that, we were sort of inseparable. Her boyfriend lives here, and I have a long-time guy friend who is also local, but we both value female friendships and were committed to making it work. (I guess you could say we were going steady?) We began texting and emailing pretty regularly, assuming we'd be partners for class projects, doing dinner or tea on the weekends. We got to know each other and, despite having very little overlap in that Venn diagram of past experience or "things in common," we get along famously. We had our first sleepover on New Year's Eve and have had a couple since. I got her mail while she was on vacation, she drove me to school one day that I needed a ride. We talk and vent about pretty much everything, from boys and romantic quandaries, school stress, family dynamics, and career aspirations, to bad haircuts, shopping successes, celebrity crushes and how Diet Coke is pretty much our drug of choice. I can safely say she's one of my best friends, and I know the reverse is true, too.
Which is why it didn't seem strange to us that in the spring, after having a couple of classes with this feisty redhead Kate, we sort of decided as a unit that we wanted to be better friends with her. We plotted our first move, braced ourselves for rejection, and were giddy when she said yes to coming out for drinks and apps for my birthday in April. The process of making a new friend began again, but this time, it seemed easier. The texting and emailing, the invites for dinner or tea, the going out dancing, etc. were less nerve-wracking because we had done this successfully before. It wasn't long until Kate became part of our family, too. We certainly hang out with other people a lot of the time, but the three of us have become a pretty solid trio. I don't think a day goes by that I'm not in communication with one or both of them. We keep each other sane, somehow. (They deserve nothing short of a medal for this.)
Female friendship is one of the things that makes my world go 'round, and I've always had a close knit group--high school, college, study abroad, grad school take 1, work--but moving to a new city at 31 made the process pretty daunting. Making new girlfriends is like dating without the flirting and sex--you would think that would make it less frightening, somehow, right? Nope. It's way, way harder. Maybe it's because girls are stereotypically catty and snobby and cliquey? Or maybe it's because if something doesn't work out with a new potential romantic partner, you can chalk it up to bad chemistry or poor timing, wallow in some chocolate and retail therapy, and call it a day. If someone doesn't want to be your friend? Ouch. It is me.
It might not be fodder for an Apatow-esque raunchy comedy, and so far there hasn't been a breakup to add to the plotline, but the writers of I Love You, Man got a few things right.
(Ok, so neither BP nor Kate is Jason Segel.)
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