Life in the land of women is one of my recurring writing themes. It’s not something that some of the chest puffing neanderthals and their flying monkeys who would love to tear me down for having an opinion or twenty would ever understand.

I think partially that is because they don’t have honest relationships with anyone. Generosity of spirit is not something that can be taught. It is inherent; you have it or you don’t.

Real friendships aren’t bought or bartered for. It’s not based on using people.

I have always said I don’t use the term blessed very often, but I am blessed in my friendships. I have my circle of female friends, but I don’t trust a lot of women. I can be somewhat jaded at times, and even somewhat cynical other times, even though they are not the same thing.

I think what I have seen in life might in some cases makes me believe in a better humanity, but on the other hand, it makes me less trusting. I hate to say that sometimes I am that person that wonders why do they want to get to know me? And I know on one hand that’s kind of horrible, but on the other hand, it’s self preservation.

When I first moved to Chester County to be with my now husband, there were a couple of women I met that I thought would be great friends until they weren’t. One I just didn’t have that much in common at the end of the day, although she is super nice. It’s still nice to occasionally bump into her.

Now the other one? She got to know me in order to get information about me to use to curry favor with others. That other woman was like the dog that who carried the proverbial bone 24/7. But she was one of those people that was also too friendly too fast, so I never truly let her in. This woman is and always will be a user. I wasn’t the first person she’s ever used and I certainly won’t be the last.

The second woman with whom I had the unpleasant experience is seemingly somewhat clueless about her behavior. I remember a year after I realized she wasn’t someone truly to be friends with, she called me out of the blue to see if I was driving a certain kind of car down the road because she passed me on the road. I mean, who does that? do you judge your friendships by the kind of car they drive? I mean don’t speak with her for ages and that is the superficial reason for contact?

And then there were those who were done with me when I moved from the Main Line. I left the mothership of pretense that the area had evolved into, which while it freed me to become a better, more comfortable version of myself, simultaneously made me less useful or even uncomfortable to my others. I can’t control their feelings, yet I still marvel at them.

So this week, I had the opportunity to catch up with two very long term friends. One recently became a widow and one lost her dad.

We’ve known each other since we were kids. Our parents were friends. I am now the only one with a surviving parent and that is such an odd feeling. However, every time I connect with either of these women, I realize how lucky I am. A lot of people don’t have these friendships.

And then today, I finally had time to catch up with another old friend who lives close by. We’ve literally known each other since like I was in eighth grade and she was in seventh grade. Or maybe it was she was in eighth grade and I was in ninth grade. I forget.

The thing about all three of these women I am thinking about is that we know each other so well that it is not only comfortable and trusting we can be completely ourselves. And that’s the thing today that is so different. You can’t just be completely yourself with anyone.

And I’m also really lucky with the friends that I have made since coming to Chester County who count as new friends. I do have to make that distinction because there are a lot of us who have been friends seemingly forever are former Main Liners who migrated west because it was just better as the faces of the Main Line changed and became Nouveaux Main Line.

People often don’t understand why you’re friends with someone because they’re pre-judging you before you even walk in the door. And people always prejudge me because they read what I write and either don’t understand it or sometimes don’t like it, so then it is like why would you want to know her? I do have to laugh at those people because the question they should be asking is why would I want to know them? And a lot of the time I don’t want to know them, and I think that bothers them more than if I wanted to know which is just the perversity of human nature.

Yesterday I spent time with two more of my female friends. One used to ride the bus with me is how far back we go. The other? It must be gosh 20 years since I first met her. These are the people who matter in our lives. Not the people who are fly by nights or even a season.

The people who matter are the ones who see us at our best and we are comfortable enough for them to see us not at our best. The people who matter are the ones whom accept us for who we are.

Everyone else? Extraneous bullsheit.

Happy Sunday.