Day 45: Back to Basics

This outfit was a little harder to put together than I first imagined. The pants, being the great pastel color that they are, needed to be paired with neutrals to avoid being Easter-eggy. The shirt, with it's boho vibe, was also a bit tricky. The beadwork is really pretty and the shirt has such a nice shape, so I knew it could be elegant. However, it could also be flower child if paired with the wrong accessories, so I took pains to make sure the rest of the ensemble--shoes, earrings, bag--were all grown-up and even elegant. The result? I would like to think it's laid back and classic, while still being fun. We'll call it "Pastel Power" (as opposed to "Flower Power.")

In this episode, Carrie dates a man who lives with his parents. He's also obsessed with comic books, smokes weed, and doesn't wash his hair. Somehow, though, she still finds him wildly attractive (oh, Carrie). After the guys' parents catch them post-pot with chicken wings everywhere, he blames Carrie for bringing drugs into the house. Carrie confesses to both save his butt and be able to take the weed with her when she goes. Samantha takes on a new 13-year-old client, who swears, talks about sex, and dresses more promiscuously than she does. Miranda gets braces, and reverts to her childhood insecurities. Charlotte finds Trey masturbating in the bathroom to a version of Playboy, an apparent habit of his. They start couple's counseling, in which they're asked to name their sexual organs in order to make talking about sex easier. Not satisfied with this juvenile approach, the two come up with their own solution--taping pictures of Charlotte's face into the magazine. At the end of the episode, Samantha, Miranda, and Carrie all get high off of the rightfully acquired marijuana.

The issue is immaturity. I have two things to say up front. First, I think it is so strange that we never meet any of the womens' parents, since the parents of boyfriends have such a prominent role throughout the series. It's like the friends all came from nowhere, born into a family of each other, which is a nice idea but not realistic. I, for one, would really like to see their mothers.

Second, I don't think all men who live with their parents are the same. I have dated two of these types--one who was incredibly childish and expected his mother to cater to his needs (and of course, I was just an offshoot of his mother) and the other who was very much an adult and just wanted to save money while going to college in his hometown. With the recession making living on one's own in America pretty dang challenging, I imagine there are a lot of people cutting costs by living with their folks. And let's face it, probably near half of the world lives with their parents, at least until they get married and sometimes even then. It's all about how you do it. Besides, the fact that a guy lives on his own doesn't prove anything about his maturity level.

This episode made me miss close friends--the ones that have known you forever and know when you're acting immaturely and when you're not, know when to call you on something and when not to, know when and what you need, even when you don't. I've already said that SATC in general, for me, is about friendship, but this episode reminded me how fun close friends can be. These friends are hard to find after you graduate college, even though I have made some great ones. Everyone you meet has her own life (including me), and it's not easy to know which friendships to develop deeply and which to keep casual, especially with the limited time we all have to spend with friends in adult life. It is also hard to know how to begin to form a deep bond with someone you only just met. Even with very old and close friends, people get spread out all over the country and even world, and keeping in touch can be hard.

Most of my adult life, I have spent energy specifically trying not to get close to people. A nomad at heart, I never could see myself in one area too long. So, at NYU I kept to myself, figuring out it was safer than trying to be a social city girl and survive my first year at college all at once. My second year at Rochester, I made very good friends with some older students, since I chose to live in senior housing. They invited me to parties and gatherings, and one of them in particular called me her best friend. But one night, she said something I'll never forget. After we'd gotten done talking, she blurted out, "I just realized that you know almost everything there is to know about me, and I know nothing about you."

It was sad to me. If she didn't know me, who did? Even though we remained close that year, when I went to Seattle for summer school, we lost touch. While on the West Coast, I made a lifelong friend in JoAnne. She was 20 years older than me, but we immediately "got" each other. When she had a hard day, I was there. When I went through a break up, she was my right hand woman. She was probably the closest thing I've had to a sister who wasn't a sister. We even fought like sisters. However, though we still talk monthly, I haven't seen her in a few years, and it's just hard to keep up.

When I moved back to Montana, I made a pact with myself to be more outgoing. Heck, I thought, I was a social butterfly when younger, so why couldn't I open up to people as an adult? I started going to lunches and concerts with people from school, even if we didn't have much in common. I purposely said, "Yes" to as many social invitations as possible. With time, I enjoyed meeting new people almost as much as I remember enjoying it when I was little.

New friendships can be wonderful. There's no baggage or bias about the "old" you or her/him. You can be whoever you want to be, and new friends will accept you, because they don't know any different. I feel lucky to have such a large and varied group of friends, some from Montana and some from Denver. After being here only four months, I was surprised to see nearly 20 people at my birthday party. Even if these friends are relatively new (and most of them I know through Hank), I know what's going on in their lives, and they know what's happening in mine. I have a great time with them one-on-one or with our couples; and I know if I ever needed anything, there are many folks I could call.

That said, deep friendship takes time, just like anything in life. When I was studying last year in Missoula, it just so happened that my best friend from middle school and much of high school, Jamie, was also there getting her master's degree. After not spending time together for about ten years (she was as nomadic as I was, going to Hawaii for her first year of college and finishing up in Montana, working in Boston and studying in China in between), we couldn't believe how easy it was to hang out again. She introduced me to her fellow classmates, and we all started meeting weekly. When alone, Jamie and I talked about men (we knew almost every guy the other had ever dated) and would remember things from our past that made us laugh until our sides hurt.

About this time, I broke up with Jorge. Even though I had a group of music friends, and my sisters both lived only blocks away, I didn't call to tell anyone about the breakup and stayed in the house for a day feeling miserable. That night, Jamie invited me to our weekly group dinners, but I opted out, telling her briefly what had happened. I said I was tired, but the truth was I didn't want to have to be presentable to anyone. She told me she would call later to see if I was okay.

Thirty minutes went by, and I heard a knock on my door. There was Jamie, a big box of pizza in one hand and wearing a smile. "I just brought this by. You okay? You wanna talk?" I was so surprised. I was in my pajamas, my hair was a mess, and my makeup-free face was puffy from the crying. I had a bath running. I hadn't eaten dinner, because I had been on the phone with Jorge. I told her I was okay, thanked her effusively, and said that I didn't really feel like talking. She was so nonchalant when she said, "I totally understand. Just call if you need anything, okay?" It was all just what I needed. It was like she knew.

Make new friends, but keep the old. But above all, appreciate the friends you've got. Now, those are lessons from childhood that are worth remembering.

I hope you'll be back. I will.