Best Friends Forever - Irene S. Levine [1]
with a review written for inclusion in a magazine, newspaper, or broadcast.
LIMIT OF LIABILITY/DISCLAIMER OF WARRANTY:
While the publisher and the author have used their best efforts in preparing this book, they make no representations or warranties with respect to the accuracy or completeness of the contents of this book. The advice and strategies contained herein may not be suitable for your situation. You should consult with a professional where appropriate. Neither the publisher nor the author shall be liable for any loss of profit or any other commercial damages, including but not limited to special, incidental, consequential, or other damages.
Some of the names and personal details of the women who graciously shared their stories have been changed to protect their privacy. Any similarity to actual persons is coincidental.
The advice in this book is not intended to contradict or substitute for that of a physician or mental health professional. This book is intended to provide the type of advice a friend would offer to another friend. It is strongly recommended that any individual with emotional or mental problems consult with their own doctor.
The author and the publisher expressly disclaim responsibility for any adverse effects arising from use of the information contained herein.
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eISBN : 978-1-590-20370-5
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To my old friends, new ones, and those still waiting to be met
INTRODUCTION
When you lose a close female friend, there isn’t a single word in the dictionary to aptly describe the maelstrom of feelings that envelop you: confusion, disappointment, hurt, anger, depression, blame, and even shame, all rolled together. That’s because most women are brought up to believe a romanticized myth—Best Friends Forever, or BFF—that your best friend will always be there for you, and you for her, forever and ever, whatever the circumstances.
In reality, best friends rarely are forever. A friendship, like a romantic relationship, is founded on two different personalities, both of whom grow and change, for better or for worse, over the course of time. There is no guarantee that two individuals, however close they once were, will grow in the same direction or remain compatible. Even when a friendship is built on a solid foundation, the odds are overwhelmingly high that it will eventually fracture for one reason or another—leaving one or both women behind in the dust. Except for the outliers (rare exceptions) that we need to learn more about, most friendships, even best or close ones, are fragile rather than permanent.
Yet most of us swallow the myth of Best Friends Forever early on. I was no exception. By the time I was ready to attend kindergarten my mother had lectured me about the golden rule of friendship: Make new friends, but keep the old; one is silver—and the other gold. At the impressionable age of six, my Girl Scout troop leader reinforced the theme by teaching us the poem set to music.
In fourth grade, my friendship with my best friend and next-door neighbor, Annie, had become the be-all and end-all in my life. Like Laurel and Hardy, we were sidekicks. She was skinny and I was chubby. We laughed and ate lunch together at school every day, and she endeared herself to me by sharing one of the two Twinkies that her mother put in her lunch box each day to fatten her up. After school, we did homework at her house or mine, sitting on one of our beds or sprawled on the floor of a living room.
One summer, we pricked our pointer fingers with a sewing needle and pressed them together at the spot where they bled so we could become blood sisters. A few months later, we renewed our vows. We closed our eyes and entwined our little fingers—making a pinky-swear promise to remain best friends forever.
Before we graduated from high school, Annie’s father accepted a new job and her family moved to Florida. We wrote