Monthly Archives: September 2010

A few weeks ago I attended a speed-friending event hosted by GirlfriendCircles.com. It was surprisingly fun. Maybe I shouldn’t have been shocked—I signed up didn’t I?—but just the word “speed-friending” (or is that two words?) sounds awkward, right? I thought so at least.

It turned out to be great. One of the most interesting parts of the evening was listening to GFC CEO Shasta Nelson—a former pastor and life coach, and thus a practiced and engaging public speaker—expound on the importance of friendship. Not just why we need it, but how we can create it, and what just doesn’t count. (“If you meet someone tonight, and then never talk to her again, that is not a friend.”) One thing that really stuck with me—and I’ve heard Shasta say this before—is that there’s no vocabulary for making new friends. There are no platonic words for flirting, picking someone up, having a girl-crush.

When I talk about my search, I have no doubt that an outsider would think I was ranting about a romantic relationship. My sheer excitement about a great new prospect, the references to “going on a date” and “picking a girl up”? The vocab screams lovers. Never mind the fact that in my home, date has become a totally platonic term.

“What are you doing tonight?” Matt says.

“I’ve got a date,” I say.

“Cool.”

The latest romantic term I’ve brought into my friending is “the honeymoon stage.” You know that point with a new friendship when you’re so excited about this person, you think she could be your new best friend forever, and every time she reaches out, you get all giddy? I’ve had that with some friends for sure. I’ll get a text and immediately shove my iPhone under Matt’s nose so he can read it himself. It’s the part of female friendship before you’re too aware of the other person’s flaws, and if you are aware they don’t bother you. They’re just “quirky.”

Recently, I was writing about a new friendship. No matter how I pieced the words together, it sounded like I was pursuing a budding romance. And while that can be funny, in this instance it was just frustrating. I could think only of Shasta, wishing there was a fix to this lexicon dilemma.

We could change the dialogue right here and now. If someone has insight into the language of friendship, I’m all ears. Is there a less misleading way to say “I asked out a girl I’ve had a crush on—we’ve been flirting for months—and now we’re going on a date?” See, just writing that feels awkward.

Mostly, I just want to understand. Why are there no platonic words for creating a new—and vital!—relationship?

When you’re on a hunt for a new best friend, one of the key moves is to sign up for various activities. I wouldn’t say every activity—some perfectly glorious events just don’t lend themselves to socializing—but you’d be surprised how many different organizations base their entire evenings around ending up at a bar for a bonding session. Since January, I’ve signed up for mixer events ranging from straight mingling to volunteering to theater to running. This fall I’ll do my first religion-and-socializing group.

One of the most fascinating aspects of infiltrating all these worlds has been to see how passionate a subsociety exists within each one. They’re like fraternities with a twist. Special languages, internal politics, even their own forms of hazing. I kid you not.

Take last night. A new friend invited me to join her for a Hash House Harriers run in Chicago. I had no idea what I was getting into. Because I didn’t have time to do my own research, I said yes before I really knew what I was saying yes to. All I knew was that hashers (as they’re called) are self-proclaimed “drinkers with a running problem.” I took this to mean that there would be some running, and then later there’d be some drinking. Turns out the drinking—and socializing—happened before, during and after the run. Other things I didn’t know till I showed up: Everyone goes by a code name—my run included Bubbles, Corn Star, Horny, and Rumpspringa; there is a song—usually a dirty one—for every occasion, and there’s an entire hashing vocabulary, one that would take me six months, at the very least, to master.

Similar insider knowledge—vocab, politics, inter-org relationships—has emerged in other activities. At lunch after my One Brick outing, I listened in on a conversation about who got to be EM and EC, and who wanted the positions but were rejected (EC is event coordinator and EM is event manager, though none of the insiders used the full titles). Improv, which is definitely growing on me, comes with its own set of VIPs. And when I went to showtunes night at a gay bar last Sunday (totally my mother ship calling me home), I felt like an outsider since I wasn’t in on the call and response for each song.

There’s something fascinating—and reassuring—to the concept that no matter what you like to do, there is almost certainly a community out there dedicated to it. And that in each community there are die-hards, occasional members, and the people who fall everywhere in between.

In one sense these cultish subcultures are reminiscent of the college greek system. They include secret society hooplah that you must know in order to feel a part of the group. The non-sorority aspect of it though is that anyone can join. You don’t have to rush or be chosen. If you want to run around town with the Hash House Harriers (any town! It’s worldwide), you’ll be welcomed with open arms. They love Hash virgins. Believe me, I now know this to be true.

Inside jokes and knowledge, when you know them, are the fastest track to feeling included. Over these months I’ve learned that the organizations with all these “secrets” are almost always the same ones that people are most passionate about. Participants who are fluent in hashing, say, are super comfortable at the event. Then there’s me, the random girl in the corner who only understands every third word. But the more you feel a part of a society, the more loyalty you feel toward it. And suddenly you’re going back every week, and you have to fend of the potential BFFs with a stick.

Have you witnessed other subcultures—speechmaking, yoga, rollerblading—that have a subsociety of dedicated members? Were you put off by them, or were you eager to join in? I feel like these communities, once you find one you like and immerse yourself, make the BFF search easier by giving a sense of belonging. Do you agree or am I crazy?

It’s tomorrow! Callie’s going to be a wife!

And, for the first time, I’m going to be a bridesmaid.

Choosing a bridal party is the only time in adult life where it is totally acceptable—and expected—to publicly proclaim our best friends. It’s like the heart necklaces or friendship bracelets of our youth, but a totally bizarre and adult version that involves matching dresses.

No matter how adult we proclaim to be once we’re of the marrying age, selecting some people over others—saying “I feel closer to you than to you,” or even “I like you better than you”—is prickly. Of course, as any bride knows, there’s more that goes into bridesmaids than just who you like best. There’s also who’s related to you, and who’s going to cry if she isn’t asked even though you don’t really like her, and who do you need to invite because you were in her wedding.

[To be clear, such drama didn’t happen with Callie’s wedding party… she’s just the timely peg for this post.]

I only had two bridesmaids in my wedding. I asked Callie and Sara because 1) I wanted them and 2) I knew their inclusion wouldn’t leave anyone out. If I went bigger, my only option was to have at least nine girls. I couldn’t ask only some of my super-tight college friends, it’d be too hard (and possibly drama-inducing) to choose. And I’d want to invite a cousin or two, and my old roommate, and an ex-coworker. It would get out of hand.

I figured the whole “make your besties dress alike” thing must stem from something other than the need for someone to hold up a dress while the bride pees, so I investigated. Here’s what I found:

“In early Roman times, bridesmaids formed a kind of bridal infantry as they accompanied the bride to the groom’s village. This ‘protective shield’ of similarly outfitted bridesmaids was supposed to intervene if any wayward thugs or vengeful suitors tried to hurt the bride or steal her dowry. However, the Western bridesmaid tradition seems to have originated from later Roman law, which required ten witnesses at a wedding in order to outsmart evil spirits believed to attend marriage ceremonies. The bridesmaids and ushers dressed in identical clothing to the bride and groom, so that the evil spirits wouldn’t know who was getting married.”

If this reasoning still existed today, I’d screw picking my best friends and just go for women who looked like me and who could kick some wayward thug ass.

But no, today the bridesmaid thing is about being surrounded by your BFFs on your big day. To have your people stand up and support this giant step. It’s a nice thought, actually.

So I ask you this: Do you like the tradition, or think it’s bizarre? And are there other adult scenarios in which we’re asked to designate our best friends?

Some friendships, without ample time for getting-to-know-you, never would have been.

Others happen in an instant.

It’s the love-at-first-sight of friendship. When two people just… work. You can’t put your finger on it, but you know the person you met will be in your life going forward. Perhaps you run towards each other in slow motion. In a field. With your arms extended. Maybe Chariots of Fire is playing. Maybe.

In Click: The Magic of Instant Connection, authors Ori and Rom Brafman dissect these seemingly magical moments. “In its simplest terms, clicking can be defined as an immediate, deep, and meaningful connection with another person or with the world around us. Typically, it takes weeks or months before most of us feel truly comfortable with a new person. … But sometimes this process is greatly accelerated, and the connection seems to form almost magically and instantaneously.”

I’ve had this connection a few times. Hopefully all of us have. I can think of two old friends where, the minute we met, I thought “Yes, please. You fit nicely.”

I’ve even had this moment with a friend I don’t see much anymore. I met Kate in the months after graduating college. She was my friend’s roommate, but the first night we met we got to talking about books and something just clicked. I knew we’d be friends. We ended up starting a book club together, a perfect way to see each other at least every month. Some six years later, she lives in San Francisco and I’m in Chicago, so we don’t talk as often as I’d like and we haven’t seen each other in years. But I still feel like we’re kindred spirits. When we do talk—usually via various technologies—it’s easy. We understand each other.

The Brafman brothers call this “quick-set intimacy.” The bonds of which “can be surprisingly strong and create a tenor in the relationship that may be lifelong.”

In the examples in the book (or at least what I’ve read so far) many of the clicks happen between two people who you might not otherwise expect to hit it off. But for whatever reason, they instantly form an alliance. And suddenly the team is stronger than the sum of its parts.

The book will go into the factors at work that make these instant connections happen. But I haven’t read that far. So for now, I want to hear from you. Have you ever had that magic click moment? Care to share the story? Is there anything specific that you think caused the two of you instantly hit it off?

Yesterday I was talking to someone about my blog when she told me,  “My problem is that I have too many friends. I have no time to see them all. One of my friends is moving away and I’m relieved because it’s one less person to fit in my calendar.”

My first response: Poor you. Perhaps you also have too much money and too much trouble gaining weight.

But actually, I get it. This woman is from Chicago. Her life and most of the people she loves are here. It’s similar to when I head back to NYC. Sometimes I withhold the fact that I’m in town from certain people, because trying to juggle seeing everyone in a two-day period is simply not possible. Then I feel totally guilty, and even a bit stressed—what if I “forgot” to tell someone that I’m back home, and then I run into her at a bar? (It’s more likely than you’d think.)  I’d feel like a total ass, when really it was that I want to spend quality time with her, but this trip was a high school affair, or for the college pals. Ugh, I want to poke my eye out just thinking about it.

So while having too many friends is a good problem to have, I can see where it might, in fact, be a real problem.

The other night I was at a speed-friending event—yes, you read that right! Speed-friending! Who knew, right? I shall expound on that adventure next week—and Shasta Nelson, CEO of GirlfriendCircles and our evening’s MC, said something about how women need at least 5 good friends, but once you surpass 10 friends personal satisfaction actually decreases. (I can’t find the research to back this up, but such was her claim.)

Maybe the woman with “too many friends” does, truly, have too many friends. Maybe she’s so busy making time for all her deep (and local) relationships that she doesn’t have the time for herself she needs. I really can’t say. (And clearly I’m not plagued with such troubles…)

Anthropologist Robin Dunbar says we can each handle about 150 friends, but not all of them of the BFF level. Trying to give that much of yourself to too many people would be just exhausting. Even someone searching for a BFF (or five) knows that the line must be drawn somewhere.

Do you think one can have too many friends? Do you agree with Shasta Nelson’s 5 to 10 suggestion? How many BFFs do you think one person can reasonably maintain?

{Today’s Month of Friendship post is from the ladies at GirlfriendCelebrations.com. Enjoy… And happy long weekend!}