I have a friend.
His name is Tyrone.
Tyrone is homeless.
We’ve been buddies for years now, and we have each other’s backs.
Our favorite pastime is to hang on my front porch, chewing the fat on the troubles and joys of this beautiful and sometimes hateful world.
I could write a novel on our relationship — like when he and I pooled our resources to buy him a van to sleep out of, or when he wanted to heal the stye on my eyelid with a needle and whiskey — but I don’t feel it’s appropriate or necessary to write about it in a public way. Maybe one day.
However, there is one thing I want to share:
Two days ago, my boyfriend mentioned to Tyrone that I lost my job.
Yesterday Tyrone came by my house to gift me lunch.
Tyrone, who has no home, no steady employment and who struggles to find healthy and satiating meals on a daily basis, brought me lunch because I lost my job.
I love Tyrone.
And I’m thankful for his friendship.
(Note: I used Prisma to obscure Tyrone’s face to respect (more…)
I’ve never categorized myself as a girl.
In fact, I’ve never even felt like a girl.
I recognize myself as a “woman” and as “Lauren”, but not a “girl”.
I’ll even take “lady”, but no “girl”.
“Girl” conjures up images of monthly hair, manicure and tanning appointments. Weekly shopping trips with girlfriends, yoga classes every other day and nightly wine drinking. All these activities are buoyed by one topic, men, and the ritual of peacocking is an important daily priority.
I know a group of girls who do everything together. Not a day goes by where they don’t see or talk to one another. Their week is filled with exercise classes, lunches and slumber parties enjoyed together. The topic of conversation is typically boys, but often flecked with diet, health and current events. From the outside, I often look at their narrative and want in. I’ve never had what they had. A part of me is wistful, maybe even a little jealous. Here is a sisterhood of girls who will always be there for (more…)
As I’ve gotten older, I’ve begun examining the words “friend” and “friendship” more and more. Both words have taken on different meanings to me, multiple meanings, meanings I’m still not quite sure I even understand. Our childhood definition of “friend” has one interpretation- you are my friend, I hang out with you, I call you, I include your name on poorly drawn pictorials of my life where we have huge asymmetrical bodies and small heads. There are no networking friends at this age, no social media friends, nobody that you go out drinking with unless it’s juice boxes on the playground. These are people you care about and enjoy sticking marshmallows in the microwave to see what they do and eat tubs of cake frosting with.
Then we go to high school and the friend definition splits- you have your best friends, your friends you don’t trust, and the friends that you partake in social activities with. That ideology roughly stays the same throughout college and then (more…)