graduation friends, originally uploaded by chanelireli.
We’ve moved. I’m sure you guys noticed. We don’t live were we lived before (hopefully that was a big clue for all of our old friends and neighbors) and I haven’t blogged in forever (unpacking 8,475 boxes will do that to you). When you move you’ve got to make new friends. Sure, I have people to hang with, my sisters and Dave’s wives friends, but I’d like some just Chanel friends. Girls, that I like for themselves, someone that I have something in common with, someone that is funny, and smart, and shares the same values and morals, and someone to encourage me, and push me to be a better person. I’d like them to be cool too. I know, I don’t ask for much. For now, Dave gets to be my girlfriend.
Making friends as an adult is totally different than making friends as a child. If only things were as easy as they were when you were five. According to Mike all it takes to be his friend is telling your name. “Hey Mikey, I’m Caleb R.” Done deal, friends for life. If you want to be part of the Mikey fan club, that’s another thing, then you have to like everything Mike likes and take a little bit of bossing around.
Making friends as an adult though, that’s a little bit tougher. First, you’re not thrown into a social situation EVERY day where you get to form relationships with people. At school, you have eight hours a day to play with people, to get used to them and understand them. As an adult, a stay-at-home adult, I’m lucky if I see the same moms every day. In the second place, there’s so much grey area. When do you move from casual acquaintance to hanging out at predesigned functions to talking on the phone or even just hanging out for the sake of hanging out?
I’m really making an effort to meet new people. I’m moving outside of my comfort zone. I’ve organized a “Meet your friends” for Mike’s kindergarten class. We’re going to throw a “Welcome us to the neighborhood” party. I’m going to story time. I’m chatting up some of the kindergarten moms. I’ve contacted the local Twins club.
Yesterday, I went to a MOPS meeting. Talk about pressure. As I was getting ready I was thinking how silly I was acting. I changed my outfit like ten times. I even put make-up on. I probably would have curled my hair if I had some extra time. I thought long and hard about what the kids were wearing. I even put shoes on the babies. I wanted to make a good impression. I want some friends dammit!
It turns out, it was kind of a dud. Not a total waste, but kind of a waste. I didn’t have to bother with the makeup, lots of women were sans makeup and I think one of them might have even had sweats on. I’ve never been to a MOPs meeting (which apparently stands for Mothers Of PreschoolerS). My expectations were rather high, which is always a good indicator of dashed hopes and dreams (just call me Pollyanna).
There was assigned seating. Yes, ASSIGNED SEATING, are we 10? My table was a dud, I wanted to be at the cool table. The table with the loud funny young mom, and the smart cute homeschooling mom, and the quiet blonde mom. I got the table with the 42-year-old mom (cool but a little bit old for me), and my sister-in-law (I’m trying to meet NEW people), and the nice chola, and a very quiet pregnant lady. I’m stuck there until December.
If this was the world of dating, I wouldn’t be looking to go steady with these people. I’d rather MOPS be more on the speed dating setting. I’d like to get a little bit of a taste of all the woman and then figure out who I want to ask out as my friend. This assigned seating is more like an arranged marriage. This marriage costs me $5 twice a month. I’m just not sure if I’m willing to make that kind of financial commitment to a marriage to an ugly smelly old guy.
Sorry Dave, you’re stuck being my girlfriend for a little bit longer.
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