Friendship.

I've spent a lot of time wishing that I had the friendships like those in movies, the "ride or die" friendships. I've always wanted to sit on a huge porch, at age 60, with lemonade and the one person that I have always been able to be honest and open with.

I was convinced that those friendships had to be flawless and unfailingly positive. I had no intention of believing that "real, life-long friends" argue and grow apart in order to rebond and grow together. My reality was based on the fallacy that is Hollywood. Women in movies are so outrageously lesbian-ish. They rarely wipe their asses without first consulting their friends about what type of toilet paper to use. They have slumber parties every weekend. They never take their husbands anywhere and they manage to attend the same yoga classes, live on the same block, and wear the same size everything!

So, I've spent all 23 of my years searching for that friendship. The friendship without bumps, bruises, and blunders. But eventually, the Hollywood facade must fade away and authenticity serves as a default that liberates even the most brainwashed "friend seekers". To put it simply, I really had to get over myself and embrace the reality that if I spent the rest of my life searching for this utopia friendship, I was going to die lonely and fat.

No. My friends and I don't have slumber parties every weekend. We don't paint each other's toes or brush each other's hair on Saturday nights while watching the Little Mermaid. We are grown ass women with obligations, bills, relationships, problems, unhealthy obsessions, untameable libidos and all kinds of unattractive attributes. But, when it's all said and done, we are there for each other.

I have known one of my dearest friends for more than 13 years. That's really rare for someone my age, but I am grateful that-in spite of our differences-we manage to check in on each other and wish each other well. Another friend, who I met later in life, is one of the most sacrificial, beautiful women I have ever met. She has saved my butt...one too many times from the pits of depression and lack. And I could never repay her. Literally. But still, she loves me.

I am lucky to know women who host me in their homes, feed me delicious food, and always know how to provide me with the reality checks that I so desperately need. My friends may not go to yoga with me every Tuesday, but they love me beyond description.

And that's real.