Sisterhood, Sappiness, and All of That

One of my girls (the Boutique VIP) from Dallas came to Austin this week to visit her Austin stores. It was the first time I’ve seen one of my Dallas female friends since I moved.

Like most women, when it comes to that girlfriend connection, I turn into a certified sappy-talkin’, sentimental ninny. And I’m not generally a sappy-talkin’, sentimental ninny. But I totally get why people write entire books and films about it. I've been known to pore over an extensive photo essay or two. I mean, you know it’s a very powerful bond when you don’t even think twice about holding someone’s hand because she’s too drunk to make it to the restroom on her own, and then going into the stall with her to make sure she doesn’t fall into the toilet* because you know that she would totally come to your rescue and pretend to be your lesbian date when that sleazy guy on the dance floor won’t leave you alone. Of course, there are different levels of sap. I’d say that I relate less, if at all, to the girls who get together to bake milk chocolate chip cookies while crying together over epic love movies and more to those of us who know that real women eat dark chocolate and aren’t afraid of saying that the newborn baby in that picture is ugly. But the actual bond itself is the same across all sap levels. And while modern technology allows us to connect, even in different cities, there is still nothing like being together in person.

Which is why I was so happy to see the Boutique VIP in person. So that we could be in the same room to do the following: compare “father talking to his daughter” stories, wonder why it’s so hard for people to understand why it REALLY IS a big deal for some of us to go camping and not be able to wear make-up and jewelry for more than a couple days, and dish about our NBA crushes in detail. There is something reassuring about looking across your drink and seeing someone else who once thought boys had cooties. In my case, it was an especially sappily sentimental opportunity to spend time with someone who’s known me for more than a month, who knows me well enough to have blackmail stories from 5 years ago and who’s answered the phone and just listened to me cry because my heart was broken but I had nothing to say. Someone who I’ve known long enough that I could show her my new laptop bag, ask if the color was truly hideous and expect an HONEST answer. It felt like home.

*I should clarify that this particular act is something I've done before, but NOT something that I've ever had to do for the Boutique VIP. It was just an example to illustrate my point here which happened to be in the same post I wrote about her.