Whitney! Her name alone is enchanting, not to mention her beautiful locks of long red curls draping down her back. To this day, I am fuzzy on how we first connected, but I do remember the very instant when our connection became the beginning of a dear friendship.
Whitney had secretly admitted in one of our early conversations that she was an avid viewer of the ABC show, Felicity, which filled me with delight, as Felicity was a bright spot in my chaotic life as a Chicago public school teacher. Felicity, the main character of the show, was experiencing anxiety and angst as I also was as I maneuvered through the maze of being single, living alone in a big city, and financially supporting myself in my early 30s. Discovering Whitney’s affinity for the show, Felicity, immediately moved her to a closer position to my heart which was rare, as not many people had been allowed to go there. With this newfound information about each other, we decided to take our connection to the next level and plan an evening to watch Felicity together.
So with two gallons of ice cream in hand - mint chocolate chip and dark chocolate - I rang the doorbell of Whitney’s third floor courtyard apartment on the south end of Evanston, the first suburb north of Chicago. I arrived an hour before the show so that we would have plenty of time to dish out our ice cream, settle in, and get some words out before the show began, so that there would be no distractions or interruptions during the episode.
Standing at the kitchen counter, Whitney graciously and measuredly parceled out the ice cream in separate bowls. She gingerly handed me my serving. I looked at it and hesitated. Do I risk this new seedling of a friendship to ask for what I really want? This was an extremely difficult question for me to put out there in this space between us, as I had spent the majority of my life pleasing others, not rocking the boat and trying not to be demanding. But then I heard myself say it:
“I would like more ice cream than that. Is that ok?”
So many thoughts darted through my mind:
1. Does Whitney think I am bossy?
2. Am I a pig for wanting more ice cream?
3. Do I appear ungrateful for what Whitney has already dished out for me?
4. Will she judge me for my lack of portion control?
But to my amazement, Whitney giggled and confessed that she, too, wanted more ice cream, but she was playing it safe with the portions, not wanting to seem greedy or indulgent and she was so thrilled that I said something about wanting more.
We were both so relieved to be with a friend who wouldn’t judge us for desiring a larger portion of a simple, decadent treat. Consequently, we freely added generous scoops of mint chocolate chip and dark chocolate, ice cream, respectively to our bowls, and made our way to Whitney’s living room for an anxiety-ridden episode of Felicity and yet we were completely relaxed and satiated.
I knew at this moment that Whitney and I were at the start of a beautiful friendship. Whitney’s positive reception to my simple request (yet, so difficult for me to actually deliver) for more ice cream was also the beginning for me at age 31 to have more authentic friendships where I was becoming more transparent about who I was, what I valued and desired and not concerning myself so much with what others thought. I began to embrace rejection from those who didn’t accept my authenticity and transparency, or were not willing to hear my requests for what I wanted. In time, I began to have people in my life who stuck around because they loved me for me and loved me no matter how much ice cream I needed for emotional comfort after a long day in a chaotic classroom or any other crisis that befell me!
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