I have a hard time with friendship, at least in the traditional sense. It’s been years and years since I had an actual female friend who I’d talk to and hang out with — I mean, we’re talking decades. And I’m only 46! It’s been so long that I don’t even miss it anymore, I don’t even think about it. It’s not that I don’t like other women; it’s honestly just that I haven’t found the right one. If I had to choose, I guess I’d want a friend with a really outrageous sense of humor — either very campy, very dark, or a combination of both. And I’d also like it if she had an attractive sense of style, because true style is the mark of a true individual, and I’d rather not be friends with someone who struggled to be a true individual. Conformity is all well and good for some, but it’s not my bag. And I think friends should either have conformity or non-conformity in common, otherwise I might feel uncomfortable sharing my true, non-conforming colors. It’s for that very reason that I have one or two men I’m casually friends with, because men never make me feel like I have to shove myself into some sort of conformist woman box. In fact, the more I depart from traditional shows of womanhood, the more men seem to be entertained by me. But my friendships with men can only go so far, because at a certain point I usually have to break it to them that I’m not interested in getting physical or romantic. So at this point in my life, my most accessible means of friendship seems to be to consider myself to be my own best and truest friend. After all, we laugh together, we go for long walks together, we believe in each other unconditionally, and we think the best of each other. What more could a girl want, truly? ❤️‍🔥— Y.B.D.