Teaching old dogs to make new friends

The other day, the Hubs and I were watching an old episode of Raising Hope, in our jammies, in bed, probably with a handful of crackers, which is pretty much how we roll. Rollin' in Cheezits. It makes our sheets feel like a salad bar, but such is life. I'm probably the only person who snuggles in deeply with her blankie, lulled to la-la land by the scent of Colby, but heck, if that's wrong, I don't want to be right.

Anyway, this episode was about trying to make friends as adults.

As kids, it's difficult enough and we look forward to the day when everything falls smoothly into place, socially speaking. That day never arrives. It never gets easier to make people like you, connect with someone, really feel that chemistry in a totally platonic way; you know what' I'm saying. And as you age, it's not socially acceptable to smack anyone or pull their hair or demand their lunch money in order to show that you want to be bosom buddies. BFFs. They're hard to come by. My personal creed is to make one per decade and then threaten them that if they ever die and leave me, I will ... - uh, well, I'm a little vague on the details. But I'd be super sad. And friendless.

Seeing as how I'm in my mid thirties and if you do the aforementioned math, you'd see that I have three and one half friends. This is accurate. The one half of one friend are those acquaintances who just may be THE NEXT BEST FRIEND OF THIS DECADE. Of course, I cannot decide until the last rose is given and until they've seen me without hair products or in labor, maybe both. Then and only then, is the title of Bestie bestowed. It's a prestigious honor that not just anyone can handle, as it involves the holding of my purse when I use a public restroom, allowing me to be a second mom to your kid, and French braiding my hair. Occasionally. You know, when the occasion calls for it? Oh, never mind.

Sometimes this search for my new buddy adds added pressure to my life. I search the crowds and think, she's here! I just know it! That woman over there has totally gorgeous shoes and I want her for my friend! That woman there has kids just my kid's ages and I want her! No, no, her! No, wait, that one! Everyone stop and pay attention to me so that I can weed out the lovers of thrift shops vs the lovers of malls! Stand still, this is a delicate process! Stop moving! Wait, why are you all moving away from me?

If I could just put together a questionnaire, it'd go something like this:

1. Will you tell me when I have spinach in my teeth? (the correct answer is no. I'd prefer to find out on my own and hope that no one ever noticed).
2. Will you buy my book? (The correct answer is yes. And all you trolls who insisted I put it in paperback are really bringing me down, man. I've sold 4 copies. 4. And three went to immediate family. You're all in trouble. Trolls, I say!).
3. Will you rescue my offspring from certain death on the days when I just need to veg out and calm down and say, NOT commit infanticide? (obviously, the answer is yes as my kids are too cute to die).
4. Will you meet me for movies and flea markets and paint your toenails with me? (Again, obvious answer, yes).
5. Will you answer my texts about underwater basket weaving with excitement and smiley faced emotions? Like, ten times a day?

And so on and so forth.

But anyway, back to Raising Hope. You really must find this episode( it's in the first season and I think it's called Romeo and Romeo...) because I can't do it justice. Suffice to say, I was laughing and laughing so hard I nearly wet the bed, which would have caused an unfortunate soggy salad bar thing.

Because Mike and I have moved far too much, we are forced to make friends. I say forced, because it is truly like pulling teeth. It's like dating. And I  never dated much. Plus, we are too conservative for liberals and too liberal for conservatives, so it's a delicate web we weave. "Wanna come over after church and watch Harry Potter?"  Is that the sound of crickets I hear?  "How about after the Dave Ramsey retreat I buy you a beer?"  Oh, look...a tumbleweed is tumbling by.

Anyhoo, my point is, thanks to new friends and old who have put up with me. Today we had some luffly newbies over and Gianni got kissed. After she kissed him he was a little enamored with her, so when she was on her way to her car to go home, he reached out for her. She walloped him but good and he lay sprawled in the grass for several minutes after. I think he's in love.

It's not any easier with men. Mike's best opening line a few weeks ago at church?

I just need someone who will talk theology with me sometimes and other times just play x-box and drink a beer.


After a pause, the other man raised his hand.

I am that man.


Wait. Maybe it is easier for men.

Stoopid men.