I’ve always been a girls girl. I played with Barbies, loved wearing colorful dresses (and still do) and thought boys were yucky. I connect to women on an emotional and soul-sister level, and don’t understand women that only want to hang out with men because…
“women are haters. They complicate everything, are envious and can’t be trusted, especially not around my man.”
I’ve heard this time and again by all types of women. No matter how educated or successful, some women still deem other women as the enemy. Many women, especially my cousin Yahaira, don’t feel like they need female friendships at all. They have family.
Besides Yahaira, most of the women in my family drive me mad. As an adult, I don’t have a friendship with my mom; she’s my mom and that’s about it. My sister and I have always bumped heads, and still struggle to get along. So I turn to friends. I feel like I need a core group of female friends – my girls – to count on and with whom to experience the highs and lows of love and life. I had those girls – my girl clique. We made sure to grab drinks at least twice a month. We would flirt with men, get shitfaced, laugh, and take BFF selfies and post them to Instagram with various hashtags, like #TeamWow. We were so cool, so fun; it was very “Sex and the City.”
Speaking of “Sex and the City,” I first realized I craved deeper female friendships while watching the show. It was 2002, and I wanted to be Carrie. And not just because of her amazing writing career and her even better apartment in the UES. I longed for her girl clique. At the time, I lived with my homie, Yuyi, who is still in my life, but it was just her and I. We didn’t hang out with many other women. So I watched the show and devoured the storylines and the friendships between Carrie and the girls. If I had a girl clique, I thought, we’d get together and do brunch, grab a drink, or have a girls night in. We’d bond like only women can.
And, yes, I had that girl clique. But after a falling out with one of the gals, my crew is no longer. I am still good friends with most of the women. The group just doesn’t hang out together anymore. That’s the thing with girl cliques – they fall apart if there is conflict between individuals. Buh-bye get togethers and Happy Hours. Cause, awkward.
So here’s to my ex girl clique. Here’s to the summer nights where we enjoyed girl time, giggled and shared dating war wounds. Here’s to elegantly terrorizing Union Square and The Meatpacking District like only we could. I wish we were still walking city streets together, turning heads with our style and diversity (we were the Latina “The United Colors of Benetton”). If we were, I’d be that much better for it, and we’d totally be bar hopping right now.