Friends

I am a staunch believer that in order to be truly comfortable in my own skin I shouldn't care what people think of me. I don't wear name brands to feel chic, I don't name drop to feel important, I don't wear makeup when I work out, and I don't work out seven days a week to try and attain a perfect body. All in all, I try to be as content with what I have and who I am as humanly possible...however, my boyfriend accidentally took my phone this morning and left his with me. Since he had snooped through mine not too long ago I felt I had every right to trade in my get-out-of-jail-free card and snoop through his. Most of the messages were from me until I stumbled onto one sent to him by his best friend that said, "So how are your living situations these days?"

I know my boyfriend and I know his friend. There was snide sarcasm in that question. Immediately, my mind went into feminine overload and I read it at least two more times, trying to decipher the subtext of that question. Why hadn't he asked how things were with me? What did he mean by "living situation?" Did he even know we were together? And furthermore, why didn't my boyfriend respond? Was he embarrased to say he was still with me? Did he only speak ill of me? Knowing full well he was busy at work I called him anyway and in my most polite-but-still-upset-tone asked him about it. He explained that the last time he spoke with him we had gotten into a very big argument and told him he was moving out.

"So you're telling me you haven't spoken to him about us since?"

"Nope?"

Riiiiiight.

"Fine. I'll see you later."

He hates when I hang up without saying I love him.

So I suppose my question is, should people care what their significant other's friends think of them? In college we all used to get along, because in college you are expected to live your nights like one long party and your days in recovery of those nights while still finding time to ace your finals. His friends have always been of the strange "theater type" who break out into Irish accents for no good reason and think flatuence and dirty joke are the highest form of humor. They smoke pot the way some breathe air and live in Los Angeles thinking that at the ripe old age of thirty-five they are still going to hit the jackpot with their medicore talent. I commend them for their courage, but at their age one has to ask "Is this really what I want? Aren't I a little too old to think I could be the next Robin Williams? Shouldn't I at least get off my ass, put down the bong and actually try to write a screenplay or intern at a studio to get my foot in the door?"

They literally used to sit around and critique the shit out of comedians and movies saying things like "We could do soooo much better than that shit!" Oh yeah? Then what the fuck are you waiting for? Do it already! Nope, they'd just hit the bong again and slip into another hallucinigenic coma. The sad thing is that some of their ideas are really clever and could be something.

I do not have their talent for making people laugh. I don't have the comedic skills that they toss around like confetti or even the ability to make doing nothing into an enviable art form. Although I'm not a stick in the mud, next to them I might as well be Mother Fucking Theresa. In all honesty, if my boyfriend had not been going to school to become an EMT and was still trying his hand at becoming the next Mel Gibson, I don't think he would be my boyfriend now. Thankfully, he has always been the more mature one of the group, the one who saw himself as something more than just another guy waiting tables in L.A. trying to become famous, but his friends remain the same. Sometimes I feel as if I am in constant competition with them because of the stories he's told me. He makes it sound like all they ever did was sit around and laugh. Which is probably not far from the truth.

So maybe he doesn't always bring me up when talking to them. Although I talk about him to my friends, it's not as if he's the only topic at hand. And now that I think about it, perhaps there really isn't any reason for me to feel intimidated by them or their stoned humor. Personally, farting is not my preffered type of comedy and I still have yet to smoke a joint (in my opinion, liquour does just fine as my drug of choice). Truth be told, if I really cared what they thought of me then I think I would be the one with the problem.

I may not have the most brilliant sense of humor, hell, I can barely tell a fucking knock knock joke; I may not have the uncanny ability that so many men do to fart at will and find humor in it; and I might not ever find Los Angeles as fascinating as others do, because I've done the backstage gig and eaten at the fancy restaurants without ever having had to relocate there. Guess what, it's not as glamorous as everyone thinks it is. The whole city is one big set and all the men and women merely players....

No, I should be grateful that my boyfriend and I are living together... two hundred miles away from all of that hooplah. Sure, we can visit, but we can always drive away with our heads in the clouds but feet firmly on the ground. That's more than I can say for some people....