Dinner last night with The Sisterhood was awkward, which is a first because us three girls usually have endless things to talk about. I hadn’t seen FF in nearly two months but neither of us really made an effort to call each other or anything. I think we both had to acknowledge that if it weren’t for ALS, she and I would not be in a sisterhood at all.

Even when I did relate my stories to them, their reactions were… strange. When I told them someone stopped me on the street to randomly take a picture of my outfit for a fashion blog, they thought it was weird and creepy, instead of congratulating me on what-must-have-been awesome fashion sense. When I told them my ibanker story, their reactions were almost disapproving.
“You are such a gold digger!” They joked. But something in their voices told me they weren’t really joking.
But they, of all people, know how not-interested I am in ibankers (or anyone of the Big Swinging Dick1 variety)! They, of all people, should know how down-to-earth I am!

Though we were sitting in a cozy little corner of a cozy little Italian place, I have never felt more distant from them in my life. It was like FF and I were alternating turns talking to ALS, but not to each other. How did this happen when just two months ago, the three of us couldn’t go a week without meeting for a five-hour marathon of girl talk and dessert?

I’m afraid to think that maybe it’s me. That I have gotten caught up in the 20-something lifestyle straight out of a chick-lit, where I am spending money I don’t have on shopping sprees I can’t afford, where I wear heels to work even though it would be much more economical to wear flats, where I take two-hour lunch breaks to drink wine and window-shop, where I chain-smoke with girlfriends on patios with after-work drink specials when I’m not even a smoker, where I go on dates with older men who I don’t even know and aren’t taking it seriously, …the list goes on.

It’s like in Devil Wears Prada when Andy starts getting really caught up in the haute fashion scene and her friends don’t seem to “get her” anymore.

Even though I know that it’s all in good fun, that it’s just a phase, I also know that it’s not me. This glamorous laissez-faire lifestyle is not me. When it’s over, I’ll return to being a goodie-two-shoes who doesn’t understand the words “disposable income” or “sprees,” and is only slightly more dramatic than the other goodie-two-shoes. So I’m a little snooty and materialistic right now, but I’m developing good taste and classy manners, something I’d never learn from my working-class parents. Is it so bad for me to enjoy the glamour while it lasts?
(Not that it will last very long, because I am now living paycheck to paycheck – yes, sensible, penny-pinching me is living paycheck to paycheck. Although, doesn’t every 20-year-old need an experience like this?)

Speaking of which, I am spending this weekend in The City, which means a three-night sleepover at HB’s place2. We’ve already planned a brunch at a gorgeous little French place that I’ve been dying to try, a wine show, a fashion/art show, and a whirlwind of art and music events as part of a festival going on in The City right now. Who wants to be sensible when you can be fabulous?

I probably won’t have time to blog this weekend but you can follow me on Twitter if you don’t want to wait until next week to hear about it.

  1. Reference to Liar’s Poker. [↩]
  2. I am still avoiding my parents and HB lives right downtown. Plus, he bakes for me! I mean, how could I say no? [↩]