Happy Monday – and I mean it when I say “happy”, because all 3 of my kids are in camp for the next 2 hours so I get to pee alone!!! Wait – did I say pee? I meant be…. AND pee!

Allow me to start this post by stating that I have been, and always will be, an only child. Growing up, it was great, because I literally got anything and everything I wanted, and I didn’t have to share! In fact, even 2 days before I become officially a “mid-30-er”, I still have a hard time sharing pretty much anything, especially food.

As a result of growing up as an only child, it was extremely hard for me to have roommates in college – trust me – just ask them, and even now, I relish the nights my husband works late, because as soon as the three hellions we call our children are asleep, I basically fly into my bed and indulge in my well-deserved alone time with as many murder shows I can cram in before it’s time for lights out.

Another aspect of being an only child, was that because I did not have the luxury of a sibling, it was left to me to make friends, just to have someone to play with. Now, I can’t say for sure whether my outgoing personality was a direct result of growing up a singleton, an inherant part of my DNA, or a combination of both, but alas, it is what it is.

I’d like to think that I have always made friends pretty easily. That was never really an issue for me. I think as an only child, I was so starved of kinship, that I would pretty much be friends with anyone who paid attention to me and didn’t mind talking about death a lot; I know – the bar was set pretty high. But I also had a hard time keeping some friends because of my personality. As abrasive and blunt as I am in my mid-30s…. well, imagine the same personality on an 8 year-old. Most kids thought I was entertaining, and yet very weird, so I would start out with ten new friends, and within a week I averaged around three. But that was ok with me. Three friends was better than none, and I carried this logic with me until college.

I’d like to sidetrack for a moment and mention that, from grade 6 through my graduation from highschool, I literally went to a different school every year. LITERALLY….EVERY YEAR. Can you imagine dealing with that during your formative years? Being the new girl was NOT as glamorous as the Barbie Dreamhouse series would lead you to believe. And my family was not in the military, either, so I had a hard time explaining to people why I jumped around. A side effect of this constant change in my routine made it difficult for me to get close enough to people to let my guard down, because I was always afraid that just as we got close, I would leave. It wasn’t something that was planned. And it was definitely against my will. But it was what it was, and I shall now move on to college.

During college, I had a bajillion friends, because in college, I gagued my validity as a human being purely based on the number of pages and phone calls I received on a Friday night. Yes – I said “pages”…. it was the 90s, people! Anyway, in retrospect, I realize that most of them weren’t friends at all – they were merely part of a a larger party posse, of which I was a member. In fact, as of today, I can count on one hand how many of those “friends” I still even talk to. It’s amazing what happens once you meet a boy!

Now that I’m a full-blown adult, my entire outlook on friendships has changed. I used to befriend people for my own ego, but now I’ve come to realize that life is so short and fleeting, and no matter what you do, you can never take those seconds that just flew by back. And once I really thought about it, I became extremely picky about the people I call friends.

Most of the friends I made as an adult were women I’d met thru mommy & me groups, which I refuse to participate in anymore, because they seem to be nothing more than larger versions of the dreaded high school cliques, and I HATE cliques. Always have – always will. They’re obnoxious, and they have a gang mentality that is only rivaled by actual gangs. I will say, however, as I have in a previous post, that I did meet two incredibly amazing women at one of these groups, and we’re still friends, to this day. But let me just put it out there. It’s hard to make friends as an adult. As a mature individual, we begin to prioritize our lives, and we quiclky realize that what little free time we have away from work & family should be spent with people worth spending it with. If I only have time to meet someone for lunch, I’m not going to give a flying fuck whether they’re “cool” – I just want to be surrounded by people I can trust. And that’s extremely hard to do as an adult. By the time you reach your 30s, you’ve most likely had some pretty good and pretty bad shit go down with some friendships, and a 7-inch thick cement wall starts to miraculously build itself around your soul. I know it’s a protective mechanism, but it also makes it hard to take the leap and open yourself up to new and possibly amazing friendships. I had such a wall for many many years, and I’d by lying if I said it was gone and everything is daisies and sunshine. However, I’ve been pretty fucking fortunate, and I’m not sure why…..

My personality is, for lack of a better word, polarizing. Always has been – always will be. There’s no gray area where I’m concerned. I am who I am, and when you meet me, you either love me or hate me. Trust me – I’ve had haters my entire life, and it really bothered me until just a few years ago, when I had a heart-to-heart with myself, and I told myself that I am who I am, I’m not going to change, my intentions are always positive (unless you fuck with one of my friends), and it’s virtually impossible to please everyone, so I decided to stop giving a shit. It’s mind over matter. Those who matter don’t mind, and those who mind don’t matter.

Once I changed the perception I had of myself, crazy things started to happen. I found myself making friends, left & right, and not just any friends – friends friends. People I know I can count on and who don’t judge me. And if they do, they at least have the courtesy to not tell me, OR to tell someone who WON’T tell me. Everyone judges everyone else – it’s in our nature. But it’s so ridiculously fucked up to vocalize those judgments to others. Everyone has a story – everyone is on a journey, so unless the person in question is a violent psychopath, keep your negative opinions to yourselves. Talking negatively about others has ZERO upside, other than to make yourself feel better. But when you point the finger at others, there are 3 more pointing back at you.

So why do “friends” talk badly about each other? I can say, with 100% confidence, that I do NOT badmouth my friends – if I did, then why bother being their friend in the first place? There are plenty of people on this planet, so if you don’t like hanging out with Suzy, then do both of yourselves a favor – STOP BEING HER FRIEND. Because I have news for you – if you’re badmouthing her behind her back, instead of confronting her in a constructive way, then you are nothing more than a virus. You’re spreading your negativity around like 47 year-old hooker, and it’s so unbelievably contagious, that when you’re with someone who is talking shit, it’s a lot harder to stand up for the other person than it is to simply “stay out of it.” That’s not being a true friend, either. If someone I know is being bashed upon, I’ll open my loud, obnoxious mouth sooooooo fast, because people who talk about others behind their backs have very little self-esteem, are self-loathing, and in many cases, simply envious of the person about whom they are speaking. Who the hell wants to be friends with someone like that????

It’s easy to figure out if you’re friends with people deserving of your time and attention. Just imagine that you’re at a dinner with 5 friends, and you have to use the restroom. If you hold it and refuse to leave the table, because you know in your gut that the moment you walk away, your name will be passed around like a bag of chips, then you need new friends – and I call that “Cleaning House”. I did such a thing a while back, and my life has never been better.

Here’s why I’m writing this particular post. 2 nights ago, my friends and I all went out for my birthday celebration, and it was one of the most spectacular nights of my life. I shoved my face into my own cake – on purpose, I made the most ridiculous faces in almost every photo, I gave lap dances to several of my friends, and even a couple guy friends, and at one point even got on stage with giant lobster claws, courtesy of a VERY good friend, and acted like a complete fool. And you know what? It was amazing. I am well aware that I am probably the most immature person I know, and yet I didn’t care. I wasn’t self-conscious, even with icing all over my face, and it’s due in large part to the friends I surrounded myself with. Amazing people with all different backgrounds and journeys…. but the one thing we have in common is simple. We all genuinely like each other. And when you are fortunate enough to meet people you know are either as insane as you, or who are confident enough and patient enough to deal with your ridiculously immature antics, then simply put – you’ve struck gold. And if that’s the case, then I’m a goddamned leprechaun.