Day 49: Real Friends Cry With You, Then Pour You More Wine

I am in unusually good spirits for me. It might have something to do with half a percocet and a bottle of cava, but I think it is more about friendship. Tonight, I reminded myself why I have been so miserable and how to get out of the trenches. Friendship will save me. It's not love or flirting, or stoicism. It's friendship. Plain, pure, lasting.

There are times when I feel lonely, insecure, and undesirable. Those times I usually turn to a pub and the powers of flirting to lift my spirits, but they are dropped just as quickly and twice as far because that comfort is a hollow victory. So what if someone thinks I am attractive? It's a bar, they are drinking, I'm wearing a low-cut top, not exactly a moral victory. Friendship however, makes a lasting impact. Spending time with someone who loves you, despite your flaws, and who doesn't want to just buy you a drink to advance their trouser invasion is refreshing.

I'm not going to pretend that I do not get lonely or miss attention any more than I will pretend that I do not sometimes flirt for the sheer satisfaction of, well, satisfaction. What I will tell you is that a night with a true friend who loves me and will not tolerate my self-bashing bullshit is what I really need. I've had a few close friends recently who held a mirror up to both tell me I'm lying to myself and that I'm not as bad as I think I am. It helps. They helped.

Even a loner like me needs friends. Though, that's not to say that there aren't days when the sweetest words in the English vocabulary aren't "party of one." I do love my private time, but I also love being around those who know me well and do not put up with my crap or my self-pity. There is just something about being with those that know us well and love us anyway that makes up for loneliness and all the other negative emotions. True, there was no magic cure for my life at the end of the night. I'm still in love with a man who doesn't want me; financially I'm a disaster; my muffin top is looking more like a full blown cake; and I still cry into my whiskey in public places from time to time. It's not pretty, but that's why friends are important.

The guy you flirt with at the bar only cares as long as you look good, but a real friend will tell you that you look a mess and yet have never been more beautiful. That's friendship and in 2011 that is exactly what will heal me. Thanks ladies. I missed you.