Girl time. Girl’s weekend. Girl trip. Whatever you call it, I get to do it twice a year. My crew and I go into town (for us 140 miles away) to hit thrift stores, yard sales, and a big consignment sale at our state fairgrounds.
I don’t see myself as someone having a lot of friends. I never have. Even all the way back to elementary school. That’s just been my life. Call me shy, introvert, anti-social, whatever. I tend to be really quiet when I meet new people. I’ve been called reserved, standoffish, stuck up, rude, and so on. But once I get to know you….watch out….you can’t shut me up.
It’s difficult to get to know me. I get that. I own it. I’m quirky. Odd. Sci-fi geek. Star Wars, Star Trek, Marvel, DC, Doctor Who. I guess somewhere inside me I want solid friends. Real people, keeping it real. No superficial nonsense. I figure if people are willing to invest the time to get to know me, well, those people are worth my time to invest in as well. I spent most of my life trying to fit in. Never happened.
Then I moved to a place where everyone is quirky. Eccentric. Unique. Nobody fits in because there is no ‘in.’ You are who you are and nobody cares. Here is where I found my people. People I’ve searched for my whole life. I don’t talk to them everyday. I may not talk to them for over a week or more. We don’t see each other near often enough. Work and life gets in the way. But we are family. The family you choose. The family who knows all your crap and accepts it.
This group of women keep me honest. Keep me real. They know what I’m feeling before I even know what I’m feeling. And these are the most important kind of friends a person can have.
My own tribe of weirdos. And I love them all.