It takes a lot for women to make friends. It does for me, at least. Always has.
In
third grade, the girl I always thought was my best friend paid "the new
girl" two whole dollars to play with me. Her name was Susan.
I overheard the whole thing. The transaction between my friend
and Susan in the bathroom. They didn't know I was in there, in stall #3
peeing with my feet up, so no one would notice my white Keds and pink
socks with the pom-poms on the heel. So no one would laugh at the
tinkle sound I made when I peed. I was so afraid of being ridiculed.
Because in those days I was ridiculed for everything.
I
pretended that I didn't know anything about what happened. I played
with Susan on the playground. We did laps around the grass area and
talked about her old school and I waited until I got home to cry.
Knowing that my friendship was worth the sum of a shitty hot lunch from
the cafeteria was something I never really got over. Even when I became
popular in High School there was always a looming feeling of outcast.
There was always a chance I could be sold again to the hypothetical
new girl. I was always skeptical of friendships. Defensive. Waiting for the other shoe to drop.
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