Girls, remember how hard it was to fit in when you were in high school? There were the smart girls, the popular girls, the cheerleaders, the jocks. I thought we left all those childish things behind, that we could be friends with whomever we want. But sadly those cliques never went away.
It’s so frustrating to want to be friends with someone only to be rebuffed because of your age or what area of the country you are from, or even based on your stage of life. Women I meet look at me and see someone in their 60s, or someone not from here, when I don’t even give it a second thought how old I look or what my accent sounds like (although there are days I look in the mirror and wonder who is staring back at me). I just feel like me, I don’t feel like an age; I just want to make friends. Sure I am in my 60s, and my kids are grown and they have kids, but I am personable and funny and sensitive and have a lot of experience to share, a lot of stories to tell. But I am too “different” for some people. Why do women want to limit their exposure to people just like them? They could learn so much more, and share what they know too.
You know what’s not fair? Men over the age of 22 can be friends with any guys regardless of how old they are; they can hang out, talk, go to breakfast together, share stories, play sports, do Bible studies, tell dumb jokes, the list is endless. They can be single, married, divorced, or widowed. They can have kids or grandkids or great grandkids or none at all. They can be tradesman, white collar workers, or unemployed. That Y chromosome is the universal link tying them together. But women? No way. Women are agists; they adhere to a strict, unwritten, genetically implanted set of parameters that define in no uncertain terms who can belong to what groups.
First, women divide themselves by profession or place of employment. Teachers, medical personnel, stay at home moms, lawyers, service employees such as waitresses and massage therapists, retail employees, business owners,…you get the point. Then, women sort themselves by decade (20s, 30s, 40s, and then anyone over 50), and marital status (single, married, widow, divorced [look out], and of course the perennially engaged/no wedding in sight. Next, you have the kids—who has them, who doesn’t, and more importantly, the children’s ages and school grade level. Where you’re from definitely matters, and hobbies and lifestyles narrow it down even more. Why does all this matter? What should matter is values, beliefs, religion, not the age or income demographic you fit into.
Take, for example, the churches we have attended—my husband always seems to blend right in with men of all ages and backgrounds, but I feel nudged toward a certain group of ladies, all in their 60s and above, most of whom I nothing else in common with. My personality and energy level fit more with some of the younger women, but I get the distinct impression they are convinced I just don’t fit in—too old, too different. Sure everyone is friendly and sweet (it is church, ya know), but there are just far too many differences to overcome: parents were divorced, former Catholic, colorful past, second marriage, retired military. And it’s not just at church—I have volunteered in many capacities in our local community, and organize annual fundraisers for childhood cancer research. Through those activities I interact with a lot of people, and I am known and recognized, but the relationship stops short of forming a real friendship.
Having spent over half of my adult life in the military, I was accustomed to working with and for all kinds of people, from all over the world and every walk of life. I made friends for life, friends who would do anything for me and my family. I miss fitting in with everyone, and having that common thread tying us together. To this day, my military comrades will randomly reach out and chat or call or even send a card. We attend weddings and 50th birthday parties and funerals; we keep in touch. And if we haven't seen each other for ten years, we just pick up where we left off, as if we just saw each yesterday. At the airport or in a restaurant, when two military members meet, there is an immediate unspoken rapport and understanding that defies explanation, an invisible bond. I think that is what I miss the most here, made all the harder by the artificially imposed limitations on who can be in my friendship circle. And no, I don’t want to move (yet) close to a military installation. Maybe I just want to be included in the friendship circles around me, to show them what they are missing, to take a chance, to go out on a limb to get to know me.
Barring that, I'll cultivate the friendships of those who genuinely want to be my friends. Including my best friend--that guy I've been with for 33 years.
