First Friday

While I sat in silence on that beach so many months ago it seems like a fading dream, I had the realization that I've let myself become lulled into the idea face-to-face interactions are not a priority in a world where virtual relationships can be long-lasting and meaningful.

Two of my dearest friends live primarily in my computer. They are my partners, my confidants, my sanity keepers, my inspiration. They encourage me to stretch myself further than I dare. They push me past my comfort zones. They remind me the virtual world can enrich my life.

Still, there are people who I consider friends who live less than fifteen minutes away and, sitting on that beach, I realized I had not seen them in almost a year.

I congratulated them on new jobs. I prayed for them when their children were ill. I laughed at their husband’s antics. I shared their posts, argued their reviews, liked their pictures. I had relegated them to virtual friendships because of the sheer ease of it.

It was easy to click a “thumbs up” icon. It was easy, to click a “share” icon. It was easy to express dismay over bad news. It was easy to post a cheerleader sticker. It took less than a second and then I could move on to the next person.

Sitting on that beach while my fingers sifted through stone and glass, I realized I had turned my friendships into a video game. This person needs a lift. Level achieved. While always sincere, in my efforts to maintain contact, I’d actually lost the intimacy face-to-face contact brings. My community felt smaller somehow even as my number of friends grew.

While my core group and I see each other with some regularity, this other group of women I cherish had become, well, virtual. So I decided to do something with it and use social media to bring us closer.

I thought of the ways in which busy moms connect: book clubs, bunco, Pampered Chef parties. It seemed as if we needed an “excuse” to gather together, a distraction to justify spending time with our friends without our partners and children. Even in socializing, we needed to multitask.

I sent out an invite on Facebook.

“First Friday: It’s bunco without the dice, a book club without the book. A chance to get together without kids or partners, drink wine (or other beverages), eat simple but yummy snacks, and connect.”

People began to respond. Questions were asked. I explained it was a casual event. I told them to bring simple appetizers and not fret or spend too much time on them. I encouraged them to invite a friend, to come as early or stay as late as they like. And I told them I was making this a monthly invite and they would always be welcomed and always invited unless they asked to be removed from the list, which would not, in any way, hurt my feelings.

More responded. A few people I only knew peripherally were invited. Appetizers were planned out, wine was chilled, food filled the table. Waters were put on ice.

The evening still retained the heat of the day. Candles flickered in their holders. The conversation areas I’d set up merged until we all sat in a circle. I was reminded, once again, people are not their online personas. We laughed and visited, ate and drank. We listened to music, talked about our children, our fears, our celebrations. We discussed chickens and garden, recipes and lives.

We connected.