If I Had A Left Nut

I have to admit, I don't have many friends in NJ. Now that I think of it, there is really no one here that I care to spend more than two consecutive hours with -even while drinking. But I've been trying. For a whole year I have been trying.

My sister, who is older and wiser, says that it's just my stage in life that keeps me from developing close relationships right now. While I hope she's right, I secretly think those days of squealing in delight over another woman's bargain fashion find are far, far behind me.(Like in my 8th grade school locker)

There are women who like to be around other women and there are women who like to be around men. Need I say more?

A married woman isn't likely to attract the same kinds of friends as a single woman. And in my case, I am not likely to attract any of the types of friends I had before because the most I can offer is sympathy for their dating woes. I cannot be a stand in date or even a fun flirtation. Add in the fact that I am someone's mom and I may as well be dead. 

So I thought, God help me, that I would make more women friends. I have tried this before - made a conscious effort to befriend women. But this time it was for the sake of my daughter as well as myself. Over the summer I chatted up other moms at the parks, the spraygrounds, the library and anywhere else Augs and I went trying to beat the boredom away. I collected about eight phone numbers. I gave out my number generously. Do you know how many friends I have in NJ? Zero.

It's my fault, right? It is. Maybe they could tell how bored I was in the initial conversations. Maybe I had a look of desperation. Maybe they read my previous blog. Or maybe I reek of Outsider-ness. I'm not from around here. At all.

The same thing happens every time I try to click with someone new. I get the impression that the other person feels uncomfortable. All that nervousness, trying to be cool and reserved. In turn, I resent the hell out of them. 

I've got very little to hide. It's not like I'm spewing out details of my sex life or asking for a kidney, but I truly abhor small talk and I go straight for the juice. I ask questions. I'm honest in my replies. I don't really want to know your kid's sleeping schedule and I'm sure it shows.  I mean, I don't mind if we talk about the small things as long as that leads to other fun things, like your actual opinion on the war or the story about the time you got fired from your job. Not that the war is fun, but you could be a PJ ORourke fan and I will never know unless you start talking about something besides your manicure. 

So internet, for now it's just you and me. AIM, my mobile phone and this - our little haven for those of you who know I wasn't talking to you today when I said, "Suck my left nut."