I’d say that I’m no good at female friendships, but I think that’d be a lie. I think I’m no good at the friendship threesome, regardless of the gender. Or, well, somedays, friendship at all (I’m the panicky, overly nervous, neurotic one). But for the sake of today’s blog, let’s just stick to the idea of the female threesome.
I’ve been part of many a trio in my time. Usually, I get ousted. Or oust myself. Or burn all my bridges – whatever, it doesn’t last. I don’t manage the politics of a threesome well. I’m no good at dividing my time between two parties, managing jealousies and egos. Mostly because I’m overly jealous and neurotic (therefore arrogant in the assumption that everything’s my fault and I can fix everything.) When a threesome becomes intertwined, with none of the friendships really being able to seperate from the group mentality, that’s when trouble starts.
I’m currently reading Cat’s Eye by Margret Atwood and no one has ever captured the torterous friendship of young girls the way she has. We’ll do anything to fit in with the group. There’s usually a ring leader, when there’s more than two in a circle. The other two will do anything to please her, she might even (although not always consciously) pit them against one another. They’ll take each other out to be the best BFF. Perhaps it’s just a prelude to love life and the desire to own someone. But, more often then not, we’re all secretly at war with our besties. Who has the better marks, who gets the guy every time, who’s skin is better than the other’s. It’s not even intentional, but in our desire to be perfect we’d take our besties out without a blink. Our bonds, even at their tightest, often hide a layer of envious competition.
(image: bethlane on flikr)