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Broke Wife, Big City
Finding my tribe
By Aprill Brandon
I thought it was like riding a bike. Or shotgunning a beer. That it was
a skill, once mastered, couldn’t be forgotten. But then, at the age of
36 and a mom of two young children, I realized I had forgotten how to
make friends.
I mean, I have friends. Of course I have friends. Lots of them. Right?
Shoot, according to Facebook, I have over 1,400 friends. So, yeah, I’m
doing just fine, thankyouverymuch.
Except, thanks to our semi-nomadic life, these friends live in Ohio.
And Texas. And Colorado. And Oregon. I also have some wonderful local
friends right here in Boston. Except, they are younger, or older, and
childless, or their kids are grown, and also I keep forgetting to
contact these wonderful local friends to hang out in real life because
now that it is almost summer all my time and brain power is spent
cutting up fruit my kids are BEGGING for and then cleaning up all the
cut-up fruit that they did not, in fact, eat but felt needed to be
spread all throughout the house.
We barely even know our neighbors. Here is a brief summary of every
interaction I’ve had with the couple that lives below us:
“Hi.”
“Hey.”
“Pregnant again?”
“Ugh. Yes.”
“Congratulations.”
“Sorry for all the yelling.”
It’s not like I can’t talk to people. I’m not what you would describe
as shy. I can strike up an awkward conversation with the best of them.
And on really good hair days, I can even score a hot mom’s digits.
But after that I’m pretty much useless. What’s the next step? Text
them? I guess. But underneath their name I usually put something like
“Chick from playground” because I never actually listen when I ask
someone their name. And if by some miracle I do remember their name, I
forget how to write a text like a normal human.
“Hello. Maybe sometime henceforth we could, whenever is convenient for
you, of course, together our offspring get for a coffee. Or beer. Or
nine beers. Not that I’m an alcoholic or anything. LOL. OK. Well. You
have pretty eyebrows. *random gif of Chris Pratt from Jurassic Park.*”
It also doesn’t help that I am awful at first impressions. I have a
major case of Resting Bitch Face and I smile weird because I hate my
teeth and when I’m nervous I always think of the perfect thing to say
roughly three minutes after I should have said it (which you would
think would stop me from saying it, but no, no it doesn’t).
So, without the crutch of school or a regular 9-to-5 job where people
are forced into close proximity to me on a regular basis (and thus are
eventually able to see through all these quirks to my much more
endearing quirks) I found myself struggling to make friends with other
parents.
For a long time I told myself I didn’t need friends. Coping mechanism,
you know?
But you do. You really do.
I’d see these groups of parent-friends talking and laughing at the
library and the park. Just go up and talk to them, I’d tell myself.
You’re a grown-up. This isn’t like third grade. They won’t make fun of
you because you’re wearing the wrong color scrunchie. But then my
oldest would start yelling “MOMOMOMOM!” and I’d realize my youngest was
running straight toward traffic and the moment passed and we’d head
home.
Secretly though, I was always hoping one of these groups would take
pity on me and adopt me, the orphan mom with no tribe.
Imagine my surprise, then, when one did.
It was a chilly spring afternoon. A group of them descended on the
playground. I’d seen most of them around the neighborhood from time to
time. We started talking a bit. And just like that, they let me in. No
questions asked.
Since then there’s been barbecues. Play dates. Gatherings. Beer
drinking. Dinners. Cursing. Venting. Laughing. And invitations to many
more things.
I had spent so long being isolated that I was terrified those first few
weeks I would do or say something wrong and get kicked out.
Blackballed. Exiled. But no matter what dumb things I said or did, they
kept inviting me.
And that’s when I realized I had found my tribe.
And it’s made all the difference.
Can’t get enough of Aprill? Can’t wait until next week?
Check out her website at http://aprillbrandon.com/
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