I watched an episode of "The Big Bang Theory" recently in which Sheldon tries to make a new friend. Naturally, Sheldon's unique personality causes him to have a difficult time navigating the waters of getting to know someone well enough to consider him a friend. He ends up giving up on the process but not before enlisting flow charts and scientific data to try to figure out how to make his new friendship work.
After watching the show, I couldn't help but feel a connection with Dr. Sheldon Cooper. Granted, I do not possess the same characteristics that place Sheldon on the Autism spectrum. I also don't have a Ph. D. or an IQ that's off the charts. I am in theory less crazy than Sheldon. I should have friends like Sheldon does. I should have a Leonard, Raj, and Howard. I should have a group of friends that are a part of my life on a daily basis. We should drink red wine and have conversations about life and love and men and everything - conversations that matter. Conversations that sustain you until you meet again.
I'm afraid that I have fallen victim to a far too common phenomenon in this world. I like to call it the "we no longer sit around and do nothing as single females in a world where our biggest engagement is class for a few hours a day" syndrome. All of my friends are married (like myself). A lot of my friends have babies or are soon to have a baby. We all have jobs. We all have lives. When I was younger, I never imagined that in the craziness of adulthood I would lose touch with friends.
Now, before we get too crazy, let me just say that I do have friends. I have great friends. Good people. Kind people. People that I wouldn't trade for anything. People who have been there for me when I needed someone. My friendships are just different friendships than I once anticipated.
Maybe I watch too much T.V. I've definitely seen one too many "Sex & the City" episodes. Maybe I'm a sucker for a good conversation with someone other than my husband (although I do love talking to him). I always envisioned myself having friends that were a daily part of my existence no matter who our husbands were or how many children we have or how many hours we worked that day. I always envisioned having friends who are first on my list to call when the world comes crashing down. I always envisioned having friends who would drop what they were doing to be there for me. And I have always known that those expectations of other people require me to be a good friend in return. I believe that women need other women in their world.
At the beginning of this new year, I decided that my New Year's resolution was to make a new friend. I had no idea how exactly I was going to accomplish this task, but the continual birth of babies all around me is a constant reminder that my friends are signing up for responsibilities much more pressing than being my friend. Soon after making this resolution, I found myself sidetracked by one of those situations that you never predict happening. It was one of those moments when Cody could only do so much. I needed a friend. Yet, I found myself held hostage by the knowledge that most of my friends were busy. Busy with life. Busy with kids. Busy with husbands. Busy with something other than talking me off a ledge. I understand that this is just the direction in which life moves, and I am certain that I have played just as much a role in this predicament as anyone else. I am not bitter. I am not angry. I do not blame anyone for this. I just know that having a friend who knows you and understands you is a blessing and something that I am not willing to give up on just because I'm getting older or busier. I don't buy it.
I hope other people have had these same thoughts at some point. Otherwise, I may be more like Sheldon than I would like to admit.
I obviously need a flow chart. Bazinga.
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