bff
By lula elias
hybrid columnist

"she's been my best friend since our cheerleading days."

"i'm married to my best friend."

"how could you sleep with my best friend?!"

"best friend" is truly a coveted title, but almost anyone can be a best friend. a kid, a baby boomer, an elderly person, even a dog.

what goes into being a "best friend"? a few things come to mind. someone who shares a lot in common with you, someone who's been there through thick and thicker, someone who will bark for help when you fall down a well.

i recently realized that i'm between best friends right about now. don't get me wrong. i have a handful of really good, super ace friends who are special to me for their very unique personalities--but none of them edges out another in some significant way that earns them prima amiga status in the mon amie sweeps. not that it's a competition where they need to jockey for my attention and affection. although i'm open to that.

i kind of like not having had assigned the honor. it seems like an antiquated idea at this stage in my life. or maybe i just haven't met my ultimate "best friend"-in other words, my future husband, or pet canine, yet.

identifying my best friend was easy back in the day. when i was in fifth grade, i met my most historically significant best friend. i'll call her debra. i don't even remember how we struck up a conversation or first connected, but we were as solid as a rock quicker than you can say "friendship bracelet."

i had the unfortunate distinction of having swiped debra away from her previous best friend, a girl who i'll call liz. liz even had the advantage of being debra's neighbor. but while location is important in real estate, it's not so vital in earning best friend status.

debra and i were truly inseparable. we'd hang out at each other's houses on the weekend and sometimes have sleepovers where we'd play board games, giggle hysterically and watch bad movies into the wee hours. we sat next to each other in every class we could, traded notes and crush updates, and helped each other with our homework over the phone at night. and we never fought or got tired of each other. well, there was the time i squirted lotion in her hair in front of the whole 8th grade, but my memory is foggy about the fallout.

debra and i had adventures together, too. like hiding in the classroom during recess to explore the mysteries of the boys' cloakroom. once we ordered walkie talkies off a bubble gum wrapper. the two walkie talkies were connected by a string that could barely reach across one of the medium-sized fir trees in our school yard. we could hear each other talking across that short distance unaided by manmade communication devices, but we felt so bond.

we even shared addictions. eating flavored gelatin powder right out of the box was all the rage in the mid-70s. debra and i were no different than any other fifth grader of that time. we could be found jamming our licked fingers into the wax paper-wrapped sugar rush along with the rest of the jello junkies. we loved the treat so much, we chose nicknames for ourselves based on the fruit flavors we favored: she was lemon-lime. i, strawberry-banana.

our friendship stuck like so much saliva-dampened gelatin powder under a food coloring-stained fingernail. in high school, we were joined at the hip. so much so, we might as well have existed as siamese twins in the student body consciousness.

we were both shy and nerdy with a handful of other friends, focused on school and getting good grades. when we graduated from high school, it became apparent that the salad days were beginning to wilt. debra felt the need to strike out on her own and decided to pick a school several hours away from mine. i remember being hurt that she wanted to declare her independence, but some part of me understood. we kept in touch by letter, but she drifted away into her own new world and dating scene.

after a few uncomfortable years, we reconnected and were able to regain our closeness--but without the suffocating quality. it was for the best, i know. now she is married to a man she would probably call her best friend. maybe that codependent closeness that debra and i shared left us both wary of connecting that way again-unless under the bonds of matrimony. and i needed to realize, like liz had so many years before, that "best friend" status doesn't come with a lifetime guarantee, nor should it.

so for now, i'll just enjoy not having to keep track of who among my cohorts gets most favored nation status. after all, there's a little "best" in all of them. best sense of humor. best listener. best shopping partner. best advice giver. best gift picker outer. maybe i should set up some kind of ceremony to honor these qualities in my friends. the "1st annual buddy awards" has a nice ring to it. then the recipients could brag about being buddy-winning friends. nice!

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