We love our GFs. Most times we even like them. At other times they stretch our patience. By being herself, she has taught me how to successfully navigate in a serious relationship. I’ve learned tolerance, forgiveness and empathy; what a close, long-term, committed relationship requires to be successful.
My life is controlled, calm and often boring. I have 3 serious, sensible, sane brothers. I’ve live alone for 15 years. Lee’s life, from birth, has been ‘on the edge’ and tumultuous. Her darling husband seems determined to annoy her. They live amidst a maelstrom of females—3 daughters, several teenage and younger grandchildren--each one clamoring for attention trying to out-drama queen each other. A recent study says that women cry between 23-46 times a year. Since I haven’t cried for years (not counting the emotional welling up at commercials), that brood has used up my portion and many other’s. Bedlam and chaos are the norm. Tears, ranting, raving and daily soap opera antics are played out non-stop. They thrive on it. It exhausts me.
How, one might ask, could we be friends? She daily crazies up my life. She adds worry and stress to my placid existence. But that is not the reason we are good friends.
She is my friend for all the reasons one reads on those tedious, ubiquitous sappy Hallmarkie ‘love notes’ one receives daily via our inbox. And because she reminds me why I augur through the trying parts of our relationship—for the lessons and the rewards.
Consider yesterday. She and her ‘annoying’ husband, who just happens to be, among all his responsibilities, a volunteer policeman, were driving to a family gathering. They pass what appeared to be a lady obviously distressed, sobbing into a phone sitting in vehicle parked at the curb.
I’m the ‘don’t’ get involved’ type. Life threatening crisis? I’ll step up. My family involved? I’ll be there first even if I have to jump out of a speeding car. A stranger having a melt down? Nope. I drive by thinking, “none of my business”, “that’s her personal business”, or “another unhappy chick who had a fight with her BF”.
Not my GF.
“Stop Mike!” she demands. He lowers his window and asks, "R U ok?" “Ye-ss, yeess, “ the woman whispers. “Just having a bad day.” If I were in the back seat I’d be thinking, “Good, we’ve done our good Samaritan duty. Now let’s get out of here.” A cowardly reaction, for sure, but easy to defend.
Not Lee. As Mike, relieved, pulls away, Lee yells “Wait!” She jumps out, walks back to the lady, and says over her shoulder, “She’s not going to confide in a man.” “I’ll sit with her; you go ahead. Come back to get me.”
Reluctantly Mike drives off. If U knew Lee, you’d realize that she didn’t grab her phone. A distressed human is something Lee understands and she’s ferocious in any untoward situation.
“I asked the crazy woman who was on the phone,” Lee relates. “My crisis counselor,” was the reply. Lee inquires about her family. She’s just moved here, “on the advise of my therapist”. Lee decides not to pry, but asks what the counselor suggested. “She told me to go home.” Cut to the chase. Lee takes the woman home. She notices scars—multiple slash marks on exposed parts of her body. Not only a ‘crazy lady’, but a cutter. Suicidal?
After she reassures herself that the lady is stable, calm, and near her phone, Lee realized that Mike won’t return anytime soon. A woman of action, off to walk the 4-miles home. In her clogs!
As I listen to her tale and observe her blisters, I am, once again, reminded why she’s my friend.
Among the vicissitudes and messiness of life, relationships, and personalities, my GF teaches me that ‘strangers’ are part of our family; she teaches me what ‘love thy neighbor’ means. She teaches me compassion, ruthless bravery and what unconditional love feels/looks like. She teaches me that dramatic over-reactions are just that—reactions a bit over-the-top, not fuel for the weakest and cowardly parts of our selves--but food for our souls.
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