I long for the companionship of women.
Strong women. Self-aware women. Opinionated, supportive, “woke” goddesses – to do face masks with, to group chat ideas on ways to fight the patriarchy with and to pour unending support into.
Girls that are down to go out and do a photo shoot. Girls that would happily come over for a tea party and Netflix binge in our pajamas. Ladies who are always growing, choosing to live drama free and learning to be their best selves, one day at a time. I’ve only ever been able to keep male friends around for some inexplicable reason, but how I yearn to be surrounded by the gender I identify with.
I mean, how would you go about finding these unicorns, if they do even exist? As a matter of fact, how do you go about meeting anyone, these days?! As my life inches nearer to the quarter of a century mark, I realize how little I relate to the people my age. Granted, I live in a college town – beer pong, sake bombs and a night getting plastered at the bars seem to be the only things socially accepted as “fun”. But surely, there must be people who seek more. Right?
People who’d like to go try out a Tai Chi class or…go to game board night at the comic book store. Drive to Boomers for mini golf or take a day trip to L.A. on a whim. With the size of the population on this planet, the chances of these mythical creatures existing would seemingly be high, but where are they?
Must I go on some epic quest to find an enchanted ram horn bugle that summons them?
Or perhaps I must put an ad out in the personals: Unconventional-Feminist-Activist-Sincere-Spontaneous Female Seeking Squad.
Does that make me sound crazy? Antisocial? Desperate?
My inability to naturally attract “comrades in arms” has always given me the sense that I am somehow, damaged goods. That isn’t exactly untrue, seeing as we all bear our own scars, in one way or another – but how frustrating it is, to so desire people to be close to while being so incapable of forming those connections.
Maybe it is a skill I will be able to learn in this new year.
However, ladies (or anyone really), if you’re reading this and thinking, “Wow, I have that same exact problem…”, allow me to extend a metaphorical hand.
I’m Amara, but you’re welcome to call me Mars.
Would you like to be friends?
Mars, signing out. ◊