Monthly Archives: May 2010

The summer blockbuster season must be upon us, for this is my second post in a row about movies as they relate to my BFF search. But today there’s serious business to attend to, folks. I read yesterday that Neil Strauss’ bestselling book The Game will soon(ish) be hitting the big screen.

Why is this of any interest to me? Well, the book’s subtitle is “Penetrating the Secret Society of Pickup Artists.” The gist of the story is that Strauss takes a year to dive headfirst into the world of female seduction. Along with his tales of conquests, Strauss shares some of the methods he learns in his seminars, including the most offensive, or maybe the most intriguing: “the neg.” Per Strauss himself, “Neither a compliment nor an insult, a neg holds two purposes: to momentarily lower a woman’s self-esteem and to suggest an intriguing disinterest. (‘Nice nails. Are they real? No? Oh, they look nice anyway.’)” Basically, by insulting women just enough—most of his “negs” are backhanded compliments a la “You have the cutest Bugs Bunny overbite”—he distinguishes himself from the other fawning men and makes her come to him.

Since starting my quest, two people have suggested I use Strauss’s methods to pickup friends. The first was a male friend, via Twitter, who wrote: “@rberch I know how to make a girl like you. Ignore her or be rude. It works.” I was horrified.

But then I got this email from a female friend. “The basic premise is to ignore the other person and not show interest. You actually have to insult them at first. I wonder if it would work in the friendship setting. You should try it … It’s sort of sick if you think about it. Who wants to be ignored and insulted? But honestly, I have seen my brother do it. He would walk up to a group of girls, insult the one he liked and talk to the other ones while completely ignoring the one he liked and then, before the end of the night, she would give him her number.”

It is sick. The empowered woman in me vomited a little bit when I read that. And yet, it’s probably a decently successful method for guys looking to hook up. Women don’t like to be ignored, especially if they’re the only ones getting the silent treatment from a guy showering attention on their friends. It’s an insecurity thing.

So could I use “the neg”? Here’s my take: The guys it works for are looking for one-night stands. The Game isn’t written for men who want to settle down. And in the friendship realm, that’s what I want. As long as we both shall live and for better and for worse and all that. To make the kind of local best friend who will last a lifetime, not a gal to party with for a single evening.

And anyway, I don’t have it in me to up and insult someone I like right to her face. You have to be pretty horrible for me to put you down like that—I’m usually nice enough, even to the people I can’t stand. (I wish I could honestly say, “Oh, I would never say anything behind someone’s back that I couldn’t say to her face,” but I can’t. And I know I’m not alone.)

For now I’m going to pass. Being civilized has worked so far. But it’s an intriguing, if totally disgusting, concept. Could the art of the pickup be universal no matter if you want friends or lovers?

What do you think about The Game? Are you entirely horrified, or is there a part of you that sees how it might be just the ticket? Could it work in a friend-pickup setting?

I recently finished reading Friendship: An Expose, by Joseph Epstein. The book is billed as an “anatomy of friendship in its contemporary guises,” which I think is a description that sometimes holds up. Other times though, I found myself wondering “Is he serious? What world does he live in?” But then I realized, he lives in a 67-year-old professor’s world. That is to say, a world entirely different than my own.

There’s so much in this book I want to cover, but one passage I need to discuss now. It’s from the chapter that made my highlighter run out, about women and friendship. If I watched Lost, I’d say reading it made me feel like I was in Sideways World, but I still don’t entirely know what that means. Something about purgatory? Let me rephrase. Reading it made me feel like I was in bizarro world. (How wonderful that so many TV shows present us with alternate realities.)

Epstein writes, “According to the received opinion of the day, women are better at friendship than are men.  … This is so—again, I’m reporting received opinion—because they are less competitive, which means less rivalrous, than men. They are also more easily given to intimacy and are thought to rush less quickly to judgment, which can put a terrible crimp in friendship.”

Obviously Epstein has never been a teenage girl.

Honestly, there’s a part of me that wants to hug the author. To say, “I can’t believe we have you fooled. Less competitive! Less judgmental! You are a good good man.”

I think most of his statement is pure crazytalk. Women aren’t less competitive than men, we’re just less obvious about it. Men compete in straightforward ways—on the basketball court, in political races—where women, and I’m generalizing here, foster under-the-surface rivalries. We smile and sing Kumbaya while silently comparing our lots in life—looks, clothes, families, smarts. And in my experience with judgment—both being judged and doing some judging of my own—it’s women who commit the brunt of it. At least, that’s what I get from the conversations with my husband when I say “she’s nice but not really my type” based solely on something as superficial as her shoes or the book in her hand. I’d go so far as to say that it’s judgment above all else (both our fear of it and the way we instinctually judge others, like a bad tick) that makes it so hard to find new BFFs as adults.

Epstein’s quick to say that this is not fact but “received opinion.” Is it really? I’ve always thought prevailing wisdom was that women are impossibly hard on other women. That we’re all straight out of Mean Girls.

Maybe it’s a case of grass being greener. Everyone thinks the opposite sex has the easier time of it. Or maybe female friendship is cattier among young women than it is for Epstein’s generation.

Were you as shocked as I when you read Epstein’s quote? Who do you think is more competitive and judgmental? Are women truly “better” at friendship?  What does that even mean? And why do you think he has such a different read on the lady BFFs than I do?

There are times when I get so wrapped up in the nitty gritty of this search that I lose sight of what I’m really looking for. I expend so much energy trying to create perfect friendships—or write about them—that I have little opportunity to actually experience them.

It’s like when you’re on a diet and it’s been so long since you’ve eaten a french fry that, while you know you love them, you’ve almost forgotten what they taste like. Until you break down, inhale a handful, and it hits you that, “Wow, this salty goodness is even more delicious than I remember.” (That comparison doesn’t entirely work, but it’s too delicious to delete. And maybe I just gave away entirely too much about my eating habits. )

This weekend I went to New York for my one of my best friends’ engagement party. It was a necessary reminder of why I’m on this quest. When it all started, I wasn’t friend-dating for any of the measurable reasons—physical health benefits, increased energy, financial gain—I was doing it to find, within driving distance, the intangible joy that comes from an hour-long playdate that seems to pass in a single minute. Or the comfort of hanging at a friend’s house that’s as familiar as your own. Or the hilarity of delivering a joke that hardly even makes sense but your friends totally get it, because they get you.

I’ve spent plenty of time talking about searching for friends. This weekend was what I’ve been searching for. To remember why I committed to this crazy project in the first place, here’s the play by play.

Friday:

2 PM: Arrive at Laguardia 45 minutes late. Sprint through the terminal to a taxi in order to make my 2:45 haircut. (Yes, I schedule hair appointments for when I’m in New York. I trust my favorite salon with my curly mop.)

4:30: Meet BFF at MAC to hang while she gets her party makeup done. Go back to her parents’ house, where I spent most weekends of my teen years, to catch up and get ready for the big night.

7:30: Celebrate Callie’s engagement surrounded by her friends, many of whom, luckily enough, are also my friends. Eat, drink, dance, be merry. Friend heaven.

4 AM: I’m awake later than I’ve been in pretty much forever. Continually fall asleep in the cab on the way back to my brother’s apartment. Go to sleep plenty satisfied that I got to see 7 of my closest/oldest friends in one place.

Saturday:

12 PM: Wake up. I know! It’s like I’m in high school. The last time I woke up at noon was even further back into forever than when I stayed up ‘till 4.

1:30: Walk five blocks to my old roommate’s new apartment to be hungover and eat Pad Thai with her and her fiance. Feels very much like countless Saturday mornings of yesteryear.

3:30: Head across town to see an old high school friend and meet her new baby. Said friend wasn’t able to make last night’s party because of said baby, so I recap the affair while she recaps motherhood. Scary.

8:30: Mexican food with two of my best friends from college. Much girl-talk about boys, marriage, rings, careers, family… all the important stuff.

12:30 AM: Back home. Full day. I’m all friended out.

The weekend was sort of a Friend Intensive. Friendship Bootcamp. You come out of days like that thinking either, “Thank God I only have to do this every few months” or “That’s what I’m talking about!” Surprise! I was the latter. Friend-search is now reinvigorated.

What does your perfect friendy day look like? Have you ever found yourself so busy with other stuff that you forget why friend-time is so fun in the first place? And is friendy a completely unacceptable adjective?

I talk often about how girl-dating and the romantic kind are pretty much the same thing…minus the making out. Some of this I predicted (what to wear on a first date??) some of it not so much (no one could have anticipated the wandering eye dilemma). The other day I encountered a shocking and completely unexpected friending-as-dating quandary: Those three little words.

You think I’m making this up, don’t you? I assure you. I am not.

I got a voicemail from a potential BFF who wanted to see if we were still on for our scheduled dinner date later this week. I listened to the message at work, excited that someone took the actual phone call route. And then, just before hanging up, she said it. “Ok, love you, bye!”

Really? You love me? I understand that “love you” doesn’t carry as much weight as “I love you.” I also realize that a “love you” between friends is often just a throwaway, certainly less meaningful than the same exchange with a potential mate. Some girls are just the “I love you” type. They’ve mentally attached it to goodbye, as if it’s one word.

“Okloveyoubye!”

Still, I was a little jarred. I’ve met this friend four times. It’s a little early to be throwing around the L word, no? The last time we met she asked me to remind her what I did for a living. Now that’s love.

When I heard the message, I unknowingly did my best Scooby Doo impression—there was an entire head spin. I stared confusedly at my phone. I think my exact word was “Er?”

It’s kind of fascinating to be on this side of iloveyou-gate. I’ve been the one to say it too early before. That’s just no fun. I remember saying it—I was young and stupid and probably in that I-know-he-wont-say-it-back-but-maybe-if-I-say-it-he-will-and-there’s-only-one-way-to-find-out headspace—only to get a blank stare in return. Good stuff. But how the tables have turned. Yesterday I was recipient of those premature three little words—or in my case, two little words—and had the same reaction as my guy did. Blank stare.

Women tend to “love you” other women willy nilly. I have a vivid memory of such an exchange with a friend in high school, and my boyfriend saying to me “Do you really love her?” And though I think there comes an age where we grow out of these haphazard declarations, some women just don’t catch on. It’s in their DNA or something. They have lots of love to go around.

The point of all this is to say: It is dating! Every time I think that comparison has run its course, something else happens that makes me say “See! See what I’m talking about?!?” When I started this search, saying “I love you” too soon wasn’t on my radar as one of the possible dealbreakers. Now it’s up there with doesn’t watch TV and moonlights as Cher. (Wait. Scratch that. I would love a Cher doppelganger. And maybe I could use  a little less TV. I said maybe.)

What’s next? Meeting the parents? Probably.

Do you say I love you to friends a lot? What about new friends? Was I right to be surprised or is that “love you” expected? And the question that is really as old as time: How soon is too soon?

In the introductory session of this course, we briefly covered 10 tips for meeting new people and turning first girl-dates into second ones. Today we’ll be giving our full attention to one vital word: Yes.

So much of making new friends is about being open. It’s about saying yes to the invitations that come your way, no matter how far out of your comfort zone they may be.

This comes with a caveat, of course: Only say yes if you mean it. Making a habit of saying yes when you actually mean no is a pretty good way to lose friends. Today we’re in the business of finding.

Even after months of dedicated BFF searching, my first reaction when I get an invitation is usually “I’d rather spend a relaxing evening on the couch.” Until I remember that the couch is what got me here in the first place. So now, unless there’s a scheduling conflict, I accept the invitations that come my way. So far this policy has led me to, in no particular order: A fortune teller, a cookie-making party, a 2-year-old twins birthday extravaganza, dinner with a pair of strangers, dozens of bottles of Pinot Grigio, more pieces of spicy tuna than I can count and countless other exploits.

Adventures like these are the fast track to friendship. Doing something you’re bad at, as long as you’re willing to be bad at it in front of someone else, will earn you insta-memories. And I must say, a trip to the psychic is a faster route to “Remember that time?” than even the most riveting book discussion.

And sure, my days are crazier than ever. I have fewer intimate evenings with the remote control. But I don’t have kids to tend to. I have an understanding and supportive husband who encourages this local quest. And while the hectic schedule can be exhausting at times, the new connections give me enough energy to make up for it. In fact, a 2004 study found that “when compared to time spent with relatives, children, customers, colleagues, or bosses, time spent with friends is rated as being the most enjoyable. On average, time spent with friends ranks even higher than time spent with your spouse.”

In her article “The Year of Saying Yes,” Patty Volk writes, “There isn’t one thing I said yes to I’m sorry I said yes to. And look what I would have missed. ‘No’ means safety and the numbing stasis that implies. I’m changed. The change has to do with the joy of being available to chance. There is a thrilling difference between being comfortable and being too comfortable.” I second all of that. Even the time I got stood up—she never showed!—I’m glad I said yes. What a great story!

I’m only a few months into this search. I don’t have all the answers. I hardly have any answers. And I haven’t found The One. I have found The One Word, though, and that’s got to count for something.

When it comes to plans with friends what do you say more—yes or no? Do you ever force yourself to say yes when you’d rather run in the other direction? Are you usually glad to have uttered the new magic word (“please” is so old school) or do you usually wish you’d stuck to your first instinct?