The weekend was…lovely. It’s always a little nerve wracking bringing together friends from all different areas of your life. Will they all get along? Will petty female rivalries take over and make the whole day awkward? Luckily, none of that happened. We had a really good – albeit drunk – afternoon. Everyone dressed up and, for a moment, I felt like a genuine adult. I became some Who Wears Dresses Just Because. I have never been that person before. It’s just not something I do. I wear them if I have to – weddings, funerals, special occasions. And while wine tasting was fun and sort of fancy, it wasn’t a special occasion.
I bought several bottles of wine and have no idea where a good majority of my cash went, causing me to remember why I hardly ever carry cash in the first place. I got one for the first night my boyfriend and I share our first dinner in our apartment. It’s going to be Spiralmac and while understand that’s not fancy, I think it’s the perfect way to start this part of our life.
But the thing that most preoccupied my weekend was how fickle friendships can be. I had a whole slew of “good” friends when I lived in Santa Barbara. Friends who cried when I left and who lamented for weeks before of how much they would miss me, only to finally move and lose all contact with them. People who one minute claimed to be my best friends suddenly couldn’t be bothered to return my phone calls or e-mails; who couldn’t visit; who, on certain occasions, couldn’t even be bothered to leave their house when I was in town. And that hurt. A lot.
When I first moved to the Bay Area I really only knew two people. Two of my very best friends from high school. Slowly, though, I started making new friends. I had a group of people to hang out with; to gossip with. We would meet almost weekly and we had a really great time. But then, one by one, we started to leave. One got transferred with her boyfriend just after mine was transferred; one moved back to Oregon. And then there were just three of us. And one of those distanced herself since everyone was leaving. And the last two, myself and another friend, allowed it to happen but continued our friendship. At one point we were close. All of us. We all agreed that we were lucky to have met. We talked about everything.
And then. Nothing.
And how does that happen? How do you go from a great friendship to nothing? I was incredibly hurt and sad when my friends from Santa Barbara seemed to move on without me. I felt like I kept trying and they just didn’t care. Because the thing is, their lives go on. The person who moves away is the one who has to start over, and that’s much harder than just going on with your life one person less.
I’m moving again in 25 days and I wonder if this is going to be like Santa Barbara all over again? Are these friends I’ve made and come to love and care about going to just move on with their lives without me? Or was Santa Barbara a fluke – too much alcohol and drama to make any lasting connection? Are the people I’ve met in San Francisco older and wiser and more capable of carrying on long-distance friendships? I know only time will tell, but I am scared.