lucky biotch

Somehow—and in spite of my sometimes insanity—I’ve managed to cultivate a small assortment of remarkable friendships with women whose affections I feel often unworthy of receiving. Women I admire for their insight, intelligence, hilarity, beauty, brutal and necessary honesty, passion, talent, and tolerance (of me, mostly). My friends are probably crazy for enduring my ridiculous antics and idiocy, and I can’t thank them enough for their patience and compassion, for their willingness to listen to my often incoherent ramblings, and for their knowledge of when to stop being nice. I know I don’t always deserve the support they so consistently offer. I know I’m lucky to have them. And I know I’d be lost if they left on account of the Crazy (see: mine).

Over the past few weeks, I’ve felt the love of these friends frequently and fiercely, sent my way from across the country (seriously), over cell phone and email and perfectly-timed text message, through snail mail and even—on one occasion—in person. Pretty effing awesome.

My friends send me congratulatory break-up cards and give me belated birthday gifts featuring the same book they gave me last year, only this time in paperback. And with stickers. They thank me for getting drunk three years ago, and being foolish enough to capture my inebriated self on film for continued and future enjoyment by others (see: by them, last night). They offer to place an “urgent” phone call should my date take a turn for the worst, then text me a “kiss him!” message when it’s clear I’m not looking for reasons to leave. They demand a detailed retelling of all things romantic, or scandalous, as hearing who I’ve kissed and how never fails to make them smile. And when I complain that I’m conflicted, and frightened of how well a new relationship is going, they sympathize instead of scolding me, reminding me to take my time, that sometimes even good change takes some getting used to.

So, I just want to say thanks. To all the women who make it impossible for me to forget how fortunate I am, who let me cry and bitch and be confused, who cheer me up and cheer me on, and who always, always bring the Funny.