The Chick Friend Cycle (An Old Musing)
Lost another chick friend recently.
Not dead. Worse. Got a boyfriend.
It’s a drag. But it’s a cycle that I’m used to at this point. Depressingly used to.
New girl enters the picture. Not a dating kind of girl, just a friend girl who likes to hang out, likes to do stuff, is still excited about life, wants to try new things.
These girls usually range in age from 24 to 29. They are not yet so engrossed in their careers or husband-hunting that they allow themselves no time for other pursuits.
These are happy times for all involved.
Unfortunately, this blissful period can not last. Never does.
Women are cursed with a genetic predisposition towards achieving their ultimate goal of finding a suitable mate and nesting.
It’s unavoidable. And I don’t blame them. They can’t help it. It’s like getting mad at a lion for trying to eat you or a bee for stinging you or a giraffe for, long-necking you.
See, we like to think that we are not animals. We like to think that because we wear khakis and have ipods full of Radiohead we are somehow beyond animals. But we’re not. We have a genetic code. We have base desires and needs. We unwillingly innately strive to eat, mate, and feel protected. It’s in our DNA.
It’s not your fault.
Even the strongest women I know can not completely ignore these instincts. And if they could, they would be sociopaths.
I’ve seen strong women who are mad at these feelings. Want to ignore them, rise above them. But they can not. They cry in corners and bury their feelings, twist and turn them in their guts and transform them into less-embarrassing ulcers and emotional disorders.
They all lose in the end.
Men, of course, have our own genetic crosses to bear. I don’t for a second pretend that we don’t. I’m just not addressing these right now.
I’m simply lamenting the loss of another friend.
And of course, she’s not lost. She’s there. She’s still my friend. She’ll still get a Christmas card. I’ll see her at a New Year’s party. But it won’t be the same. She’ll be peripheral now. An extra in a movie in the dinner scene that is my life. I don’t begrudge her. I’ll just miss her.
There is always the vehement denial from the girl that she has changed. And she’s not really professing this to you, mind you, but to herself. Because no one wants to believe that they are so easily manipulated by another. So easily uprooted from their own character and changed into someone else completely at the prospect of being in a relationship.
But at their cores they know it is true.
For the sake of time and comfort, others are cast aside in favor of the new focus. The new man. And not only male friends are dismissed, though they are the most quickly disposed of due to discomfort on the part of the new Alpha.
Female friends are essentially eliminated as well. They are usually relegated to one night every two weeks. A “girls night out” that usually, not coincidentally, coincides with an evening where the Alpha had something going on himself that the girl was not welcome to be a part of. So she, as proof to herself and her old friends of her continuing independence, organizes the man-free night.
It is generally a vodka-fueled evening that is primarily spent talking about her man in between texts to her man. It concludes relatively early just in case her man gets home sooner than he suggested he would.
Sound familiar girls? Don’t be sad.
It’s not your fault.
Of course, there is always the entertaining scenario that occurs when the relationship ends abruptly and all of a sudden the chick wants to reclaim her friends. She is a mess and trying to remember how to be one person instead of two all over again. She usually tries to sneak back into the friend’s lives and acts as if nothing ever happened.
START TEXT CONVERSATION:
“Hey! What’s going on this weekend?”
“Who is this?”
“Jerk! It’s Beth!”
“Sorry! Didn’t have your number. I’ve had two new phones since it’s come up.”
“Lol. Asshole!”
“Why do you want to know what’s up this weekend?”
“Just asking! Do you want to go grab a drink at our favorite spot, Smedley’s Pub?”
“That bar has been closed for over a year.”
“Really?”
“What happened to Dave?”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Well, your social agenda has been completely dependent upon him for the last year and a half. The fact that you are independently trying to make a weekend plan suggests that something is awry. I’ll repeat: “What happened to Dave?”
“We’re taking some time off.”
“Right.”
END TEXT CONVERSATION
That’s always a beautiful and humbling day.
Now I realize that I’ll be accused of bitterness for this post. And I certainly can understand why. But there is none here.
At this point, it’s just a quiet acceptance. I used to get bitter over this, but having been through the scenario so many times, I have none left to give.
It’s now just a sociological phenomena that I accept with a sense of wonderment and awe.
