Yesterday was a FULL day for me.
Besides a huge meeting at work that I needed to coordinate, I had the Aiming Low HP party that night (a post on that to come). Since I had two hours to kill prior to the party, I called a friend up who I never get to see anymore to have dinner.
The thing is, every time I see this friend, or any of my friends- it’s always with other people around. I can’t ever be open and honest about what’s really going on in my life. I just cant be that exposed when my husband is sitting across the table.
It was nice to catch up with this friend. He is one of the dearest people in my life.
When I was 16 years old, my parents decided to move my family to Israel. We dreamt that we would all be happy, and that would be the solution to everything (sounds familiar).
But alas, that wasn’t the case.
Although I was originally on board with moving there, I quickly learnt that it was a BAD idea.
I moved to an affluent city, and was thrown into the 10th grade. I was not affluent, and nor did my Jew-Fro, brace -face win over many friends.
I was in the same school as my SUPER DUPER popular cousin, so I thought that would somehow make a difference, since we were two peas in a pod.
Nope.
People just did not dig me.
I was just.. so different from them.
I failed all my classes (even having it out with the english teacher because I would often correct her in front of the class)
I had two major crushes on boys who didn’t know I was alive.
I didn’t blame them.
I hated myself for agreeing to move.
I wanted to go back home to America.
I wanted to have friends again.
During this very difficult time in my life, I had a weekly appointment with my schools guidance counselor.
I don’t remember much about her, except she reminded me of the teacher from Teen Wolf 2. You know, the one that at the end turned out to be a wolf as well? (tried to google a picture of her, SO hard to find)
On one of these appointments, she mentioned that there was another young boy who had moved from America in my school. She suggested I meet him and maybe we could be friends.
I liked that idea.
I was so alone.
I remember often roaming the halls and wondering who the American boy was.
The guidance counselor never set up a time for us to meet.
One day, when I walked into her office to get a permission slip signed, I saw a young man in her office. She was on the phone, and at that moment- pointed me in that boys direction- whispering that he was the American.
I went up to him, and introduced myself.
Turns out, he was not only American- he was from my city.
To top it all off, we even had friends in common!!
What a small world!
For some reason, we never really clicked at that point in time. I imagined becoming BFF’s and just spending all day together. He was a year younger than me, but that wouldnt matter!
My dreams were short-lived.
We never hung out, never went to grab a slice of pizza (from his dad’s pizzeria)- he didn’t turn out to be the friend that I dreamed of…
Then one day, towards the end of the school year, I saw him in the halls. He told me his family was moving back to America.
I was so upset and jealous.
I wanted to move back home as well!!!
I knew my parents were talking about going back, but it was still very much up in the air.
And just as quickly as we moved to Israel, we moved back to America. My dad first, then me, then my brother and finally my mother.
A few months after my arrival back home, I received a phone call.
“Umm.. I’m not sure if you remember me.. I was the umm..the boy in Israel that was in your school. I saw our mutual friend and asked for your number, I hope that’s ok”
I was so OK with it.
We had stayed on the phone for what I remember was 4 hours. My cordless phone was dead, so I spent the entire conversation on the kitchen floor.
Turned out he DIDN’T have any friends in Israel, he felt like an outcast… which would explain his choice of green sweatpants (which he wore every other day).
It was like he was the only one who knew what I had gone through. The only one who truly understood- and that means so much when you are a teenager.
After we hung up, I had wondered to myself WHY we hadn’t been friends the entire time?
We just clicked.
And today, after all these years…I am so proud to call him one of my BEST friends.
He’s someone I would give a kidney to (and I do not part with my organs very easily).
He has taught me how to laugh at myself. I was always one to get offended so quickly… but he taught me that when you laugh at yourself, no one else has the power to hurt you.
We have had some rocky patches in our relationship, of course. The worst one being when he was 18 and came out to me. I didn’t know how to react to that piece of information. I had never been around homosexuality before, and it was all so new and scary for me. I didn’t want him to have a tough life because of it. But instead of me being a good friend, a friend he needed at that time… I wasn’t.
And we stopped talking for 2 years.
And I hated myself for being such a fool.
Such a fool to have let go of one of my best friends.
We eventually made up, and I will always regret what I had put him through. I was 18….a baby- I made mistakes.
Today, I raise my fag hag flag high and am proud to have this amazingly special person in my life.
When I started dating my husband, he was uncomfortable with the idea that my best friend was a man. Although I constantly told him that he was gay and that nothing had ever happened between us- he just couldn’t accept it (bec this friend had been with women before he came out). At one point my husband even said “It’s me or him”. I looked him dead in the eyes and told him that if he made me choose, I would not choose him.
We would often fight about the relationship I had with this friend. I never understood what made him so insecure. I guess he just didn’t understand how I could share all these feelings that I had with another man besides him. Often, I would have to call my friend when my husband wasn’t around. This was very painful for me, and hurt my best friend immensely.
Yet I knew it would blow over.. I knew that my husband would realize what a jerk he was being and get over himself.
Today, my husband LOVES my best friend. He always says how stupid he was for feeling so insecure. He too had never been around anyone who was gay and just didn’t get that a man and a woman can have a platonic relationship.
My friend has been my rock so many times. He has always been consistent (which I don’t find very common in friends these days).
He reads my blog sometimes (I just found this out last night), as he is the ONLY friend IRL that knows about it. And I am ok with that, because he is someone who I would tell my deepest darkest secrets to.
With him there is no mask.
No facade.
Sure, he might schlep me to a YSL sample sale, or ask me when my last lip waxing was, or make fun of my shoes… but he will always, ALWAYS be my little green sweatpants wearing friend.
B’s 30th Birthday, originally uploaded by gemini-girl.
