Why I Don’t Have a Best Friend.
It used to bother me that I didn’t have a “bestie”. I thought I was a little bit less, somehow, because I couldn’t name someone as my exclusive nearest and dearest in the realms of friendship. You know the kind. The kind who proudly declared that I was their BFF and I could declare it back. Joined at the hip. We might have crawled around in the sun together as babies while our mums yakked on a picnic rug. And as we grew up, the bank of shared experiences made us inseparable. I didn’t have that. Perhaps it was because my parents seemed to move house every two years (and often that meant schools too), or perhaps it has more to do with my personality. I had a special friendship in high school. We were the only newbies in a class full of established friendships. We were tight. But that was my teens, navigating the complexities of growing up. Now, right now, I don’t have a best friend and I’m good with that. What I do have …