Artwork by Escha van den Bogerd

During my Waiting Years, as I like to call my time spent waiting on tables, I had many friends.  There was always someone who was willing to listen, always someone who wanted to go out for a drink, always someone with whom to have a late night encounter.
Then I married someone who listens, likes to go out for drinks and with whom I have had too many encounters to count (and many more to come). 

Then I got pregnant and we moved out here, to the suburban "area" surrounding the city.  There have been moments during which I have never felt lonelier.

My husband goes back into the city every day, leaving us behind.  Sometimes I hate him for it.

When the children were very young, I felt one kind of lonely - the kind where I could never find a moment to myself.

Now, I have discovered another kind of lonely:  the kind where I have too many moments to myself.

The kids are both in school, my daughter fulltime and my son part time.  I have a very part time job that I love, and I write and I swim and I walk.

I do all of this alone. 

I must admit that I'm not very good at making and keeping friends.  I am on-guard from past hurts. I am also of the mind that maybe there is a reason no one wants to be my friend.

This is smacking of Charlie Brown right now, and I apologize for that.

For the most part, I enjoy my time alone.  But there are the moments when it hits me:  I have no friends.

I was in the park with my son the other day and we ran into two of his friends from school.  The mothers of these two boys are the best of friends. I have learned previously from one - Mary - that she and Rhonda live across from each other.  They went on vacation to Disneyland together, their entire families.  They plan spa dates and play dates.  Their kids even have the same drinks in their lunch boxes as if Mary and Rhonda go grocery shopping together, or share food, at least.

I envy this.

I asked Rhonda if her two boys were playing soccer this season.

"Yes, but my oldest is upset," she told me.  "He found out after we signed him up that all his friends were playing lacrosse.  I should have asked their mothers what they were doing before I decided."

This sat with me until after Mary and Rhonda had collected their kids and said their goodbyes. 

Asked their mothers what they were doing before I decided.

Doing something like that - finding out what someone else was doing first before making up my own mind - would never have occurred to me.  I ask what my kids like to do - or I know already - and I sign them up.  They have never done anything because someone else was doing it too.

I'm not saying Boo Rhonda is wrong and Hip hip hooray I am right.  I am more baffled by the fact that it would never have entered my mind to call somebody up and say,
"How about it?"

Have I made this nest of 'no friends' and hunkered down? 

There are other hurdles, though.  My kids are a factor in sussing out someone's "friendability."  I tried to be friends with a mom once who spoiled her children ridiculously.  It just couldn't work - I bit my tongue so much, it hurt.

I also cannot befriend someone who speaks too sharply to my own children when I am standing right there. Also, if I say, "Crap" and am told by a woman, "You mean fudge" - she cannot be my friend.

Religious issues also come into play.  My husband and I have shared with our kids that we do not believe in God.  Our neighbor's child just had her communion and she told my daughter she wouldn't have her own communion until she was in Grade Two.  I watched and thought, Should I say anything?  And then I smiled.  Too complicated for a sunny afternoon.  How would her parents and my husband and I mesh?

Making friends after all this time is a little like looking for an apartment after you've been renting for years:  the list of Can't Haves is five pages long.

I should be happy with what I have (a lesson that needs to be learned again and again and again).  I have a husband that listens and cares.  I have two glorious children that make me laugh.  I have my parents a phone call away and my sister and I aren't fighting anymore.  My friend out west may be too busy for regular e-mails but she never goes away; we are friends for life.

Still, I know, there will be that twinge, when I am at the park with Mary and Rhonda again, when I think:  That would be nice. 

Good grief - I'll just have to work through that.

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