The Irreplaceable Nature of Female Friendships

I have been feeling a very specific, aching loneliness lately that I have had the hardest time pinpointing. The natural response to this is something like, "Well, go and get yourself out there! Go out and meet people!" However, that's just it--I have been. I have reconnected with a former high-school classmate in the area. My partner and I have been hosting dinner parties and playing board games with local friends and colleagues. I have joined a book club. I go to coffee shops for my daily dose of small talk and people-watching (though I won't pretend that this one is an antidote for loneliness, even for an introvert). In short, I have been hanging out with people, both those I have known and those I have just met.

So, what is this nagging, piercing sense that something deeply tied to my sense of belonging, my well-being, my soul itself is missing? Is it because I no longer have co-workers? Dedicating oneself to full-time writing can be a somewhat solitary endeavor, after all. Is it because I don't work on a university campus anymore? Unlikely, given that I moved to a college town with a strong sense of school identity. Is it because I moved farther from my family? Maybe, but I also moved closer to other family members, and I spent a lot of time in therapy preparing for that eventuality. Am I just being impatient because I haven't found my "best friend" here yet? Almost certainly, but it feels like there's more to it than that.

When I examine all the other stages of my life that required a move or a new social circle, I realized one constant: I always had my gal pals from the beginning. New high-school? Gal pals from classes and sports. Off to college? Gal pals from courses and activities. Moving across the world for Peace Corps? Government-selected gal pals. Grad school? Admissions-selected gal pals. Policy work? Believe it or not, gal pals.

This is not to say that I do not have friendships with men; far from it. I deeply value the close friendships I have with my male classmates and coworkers. But there is something uniquely special about friendships between women, formed instantaneously in those moments which can pass unspoken. The slight eyebrow raise that only women notice that signals you're feeling unsafe or frustrated with a conversation. The cheek bite that only your female coworker understands as you holding back the urge to say something along the lines of "I suggested that last week!" when a male coworker repeats your idea to a now-receptive audience. Close female friendships often bring not just the humor, kindness, and love of any true friendship, but also an inherent sense of security and understanding that only comes from experiencing the world through a certain lens. Something about it allows us to laugh a little louder, stretch out a little more on our seats, cry and scream if we need to, and be unapologetically our authentic selves, even if it's just for a moment. Whether it's a weeping moment of inebriation in a club bathroom, a quick nudge on public transportation, or the slipping of a tampon into another hand, women have always had my back, and I will always have theirs.

My entire life has been shaped and molded by the incredible women at my side. I have always turned to them for good times and guidance alike. In some cases, these friendships were immediate. They almost seemed inevitable, destined. In other cases, it took months, even a year, to really solidify those critical friendships. So I know I should not yet despair because I have not found my gal pals in this new city. And I know that I can reach out to any of the aforementioned women at any time. Regardless if we last saw each other two months or two decades ago, we know we can count on each other. Even so, with distance comes some unavailability, and thus is the source of my loneliness without an instant gal pal in my new place.

This realization brought with it a question: is this what some men feel like all the time? A weighty absence of someone you can be unapologetically yourself with? A vacuum where there should be someone you can express your purest feelings to? I've only lived a fraction of that, and only in recent months, but I can easily understand how that that hole can fill with fear; fear that no one is ever going to truly understand. Given that, it's almost inevitable that such fear would then morph into anger or frustration. Everyone needs a friend who can understand the world through their experiences, and that friend should ideally also be someone who allows them to work out their feelings authentically. I hope we are all so lucky.