“The myth of the BFF can be difficult to live up to. In
 film and television, we often see female friendships portrayed in a 
highly romanticised and unrealistic manner; uncomplicated and lasting 
forever despite the differences of the women involved. When women’s 
relationships are at the centre of the narrative – Sex and the City 
being the most obvious example – it seems that best friendship somehow 
transcends all else. ”
  
  — The myth of the BFF and the end of female friendships (The Guardian)
Recently, I had the pleasure of engaging in a fabulous chat on Twitter with Trinity, Reynje and Laura prompted by Trinity's tweeting a link to the article quoted above. This piece was written by a contributor to Just Between Us,
 an anthology of writing by Australian authors on the topic of female 
friendships. The depiction of female friendships--and particularly the 
BBF (best friend forever) relationship--is one that I frequently find 
personally challenging in books, movies and television. Most of the 
time, those depictions aren't relavent to my own experiences, and in my 
discussion with Laura, Reynje and Trin, it sounds like I'm not alone. 
Thinking
 back to elementary and high school, I remember the distinct feeling 
that there was something wrong with me that I didn't have a best friend.
 That's what we saw on Beverly Hills 90210 (the original show), right? 
Not to mention my mother and most of the adult women I knew still had 
the same best friends they'd had when they were twelve, so the 
inevitable questions from well-meaning adults would often head in that 
direction I name whatever casual friend was around the most at any given
 moment, but that overwhelming feeling of being defective because I 
didn't walk around with half of a friendship charm. 
That's
 not to say I didn't have friends and a reasonably full social life. In 
high school, I had a group of friends--girls and boys--that I spent time
 with and had a lot of fun with. A few of those people I'm still in 
touch with. When I went to college, there were a couple of those high 
school friends who I thought may be that best friend forever that adults
 told me I should have, but distance (pre-email and Facebook and even 
texting--the horror!) made that challenging. Late in my sophomore year 
of college it hit me that one close high school friend with best friend 
forever potential had faded into my history, rather than being a part of
 my present. I was so very sad about that.
In
 college, I had a similar, loose circle of friends, but that group was 
largely comprised of couples--it wasn't the Sex and the City fantasy 
(this was when SATC was popular) full of shoe shopping, gossip-fueled 
brunches and hangovers. Aside from my now-husband, I'm only in touch 
with one of those people, though I have wonderful memories of my four 
years with that group. By that point, I'd pretty much come to terms with
 the reality that I simply was going to be the anomaly, that person who 
didn't have a best, lifelong female friend. (This was around the same 
time I realized that my real best friend forever was my now-husband.) 
Now
 that I'm older (in my 30s), I realize that friendships change, grow and
 end, and that's part of the cycle of our social relationships as 
humans. Sometimes people come into our lives for a period of time, and 
there's value in appreciating those relationships while we have them. I 
know that I'll never fit in at a "Girls Night Out" (just as I always 
felt out of place and awkward at slumber parties at twelve), that my 
enjoyment of solitude and aversion to gossip and large groups will keep 
me from obtaining the sorts of female friendships depicted in popular 
culture.