When I was in college, I joined a sorority. My mother talked to me constantly about her sorority days in college when I was in high school and it sounded incredible. It sounded like something I really wanted to be apart of, especially for someone like me who had mostly guy friends. She told me of nights that she spent up late talking to girls down the hall, and driving from Eugene to Portland last minute for better pizza. She told me of Gatsby-themed parties with the fraternity next door, of her girlfriends helping her change her tire when she got stuck on the side of the road, and her big giving her her original copy of "Abbey Road." Maybe the 70s was just a different time or it was a west coast thing, but my sorority experience was vastly different.

While my mom went to Oregon for school (we're originally from California), I went to the south. I had never lived anywhere else but the same house I grew up in until I left for college. Up until this point, I had quite a few girlfriends. I grew up, mostly in elementary school, having primarily girlfriends. The older I got, the harder the time I had making lasting friendships with women. By the time I was a sophomore in high school, I had been bullied a handful of times, all by women, and my closest group of friends was me and 6 guys. Maybe it was because I was never very girly, or maybe it was because I didn't like drama--whatever the reason was, I found it way easier to talk to guys. They seemed to actually be interested in what I had to say and took me at face-value. I could talk sports, or politics, or something completely random and quirky and they would talk with me and teach me more about it in an equal exchange. Aside from a few of my guy friends liking me in high school, these relationships were exclusively platonic. Coming to college, I hoped to open myself up again and make more friends with women. Unfortunately, it didn't happen as I had hoped.

While I am very thankful for the specific chapter I was apart of (I couldn't have seen myself in really any other on campus), it constantly felt like I was the one consistently late to the party--like people had already started mingling and making all their friends without me. I'd start making friends with some of the girls in the house and they would talk to me briefly and sweetly, but that would be the end of it. Other than a few women, the vast majority of these interactions felt surface-level at best, even though I lived in the house. Now, mind you, I am in NO WAY discrediting sororities or the women in my chapter. I am thankful for it even though I didn't have the best of experiences. But it did feel cliquish at times (we were 200+ women, it was naturally bound to happen one way or another). I am not antisocial, but if I don't have anything to say, I'm not going to make something up or pretend I'm actually into Grey's Anatomy when I'm not. But I know there are plenty of women out there who felt like I did. Things constantly felt forced, to the point that I kind of gave up. I'd sit at dinner with the other girls and they would want to talk about what their weddings would be like and I had never much thought of mine. I'd go into the living room and someone would be watching Keeping Up with the Kardashians, a show I had watched maybe once in my whole life. I just felt like I couldn't ever relate.

There were a lot of women I thought were extremely cool. Women who liked the same obscure indie music that I did. Women who also weren't very fond of wearing heels if they didn't have to. There were plenty of them, but it still felt, despite all these similarities, it was a similar situation I had had with the popular kids in high school: we were class friends. You know what I'm talking about. The kind of people that are in your classes, you talk during class and have a stellar conversation one-on-one with them, but when you see them among their other friends, it suddenly doesn't feel the same. To this day I'm still not quite sure what the disconnect was. But I kept trying, time and time again, even though it felt often like a fruitless cause. I'd see these pictures on Instagram of a whole group of gal pals, six or seven in total, and wonder how they all got along, because I never shared that experience, and was never apart of anything like that even in lower numbers. Even though I wanted it.

While I'm not saying all women are shallow, or that I'm judgmental (though I guess maybe I could be?), or that all women suck or anything to that nature, but the problem most women have who have trouble making other girlfriends is because they have been hurt by women in their past. For me, it was high school bullies, my own insecurities, and being way too mature and nihilistic at a young age, culminating into an obscure mesh of introversion. And I admit my short comings. I am still a work in progress like we all are. Those things matured to a distrust and lumping all women into the same general category, which wasn't fair. But it was hard coming from that past, to a present where I felt ignored despite my best efforts (this might be a side lesson about being too introverted), and then having a few really bad run-ins with women (I don't want to go into detail) when I was simply trying to hang onto the 2018 mantra of "women helping women" and all ladies having each others backs. And it made me want to pursue this mantra even more, though I still got along better with the dudes.

Because of all of this, it lead me to appreciate the women I had in my life even more. The ones who listened to me and realized I might be different or quirky but that it didn't matter. The women I do have consistently in my life are extremely special, and know they won't hear from me every day, or even every week, but that our friendship is still very important to me. That became the leading distinction between the female friendships I saw, and the male ones. The women I saw talked every day, and did everything together. Guys don't do that, and neither do I. I don't need to face-time while I'm doing my makeup before us going out because I'll see you in 30 minutes anyway. I promise my life is not that interesting. And maybe that's why I haven't found as many like-minded women, or maybe it's just a generational thing, I'll never really know. BUT it made me thankful of the women in my chapter who asked me what was wrong when I was having a bad day: those ladies are amazing and are leading incredible lives today still! My sorority taught me the biggest lesson of all: compassion. Compassion to those who felt a little like outsiders, that it was okay to feel like that or be like that. Compassion to those who were different from me: those who had all the friends in the world, 4.0s, and watched Desperate Housewives ravenously. Compassion for those who might have wronged me, and compassion for those who are still figuring things out. Because at the end of the day, we are all on our own quests to find the best version of ourselves. Sure I more than likely screwed up PLENTY of times, there is no doubt in my mind, but looking back, I did wish it was different. I wish maybe I had said the right thing, or put myself out there more, but I also wish I had felt that in return. It made me thankful for all my guy friends that I had and our dorky conversations about Super Smash Bros and how dumb the Bachelor was. While I might not be the most Elle Woods kind of gal or a popular socialite, I'm appreciative of the guy friends that I had then, and do now. And that is okay.

To all those other ladies out there who have had this struggle, I commend you. It's lonely and difficult. But know you are not alone. The greatest take away here is not to lose hope. And for all women out there, regardless of whether you have two girlfriends or twenty: to show every one around you compassion and love, even if they seem adverse to you, and things will grow like water and sunshine for plants. I am not claiming to have all the answers, or take the position of victim here, as if I was never at fault, because I was. I didn't give enough of a chance to those I had judged, and that was unfair of me. In this case, don't be like me. While I never felt truly at home in my sorority, I still wanted those nights on the sofa staying up late painting our toes. While I didn't feel like I could relate, or conversations flowed as easily, maybe that just means my time in the sun hasn't happened yet, and I'm okay with that.

So until you find that gal pal group, be thankful for what you have.