When girlfriends go MIA

The Beatles can't get by without a little help from their friends, the Carpenters told us good friends are for keeps and James Taylor and Carole King both told us we've got a friend.

I wouldn't argue with any of them, but when you're going through a divorce and then start your new life as a divorced woman, your friendships get a workout even better than the one Madonna or Christina get with their personal trainers before they go on tour.
There's no way that I would have made it though my divorce without my girlfriends. Although I hid what was going on from most of them for a long, long time, they were supportive and loving once it all came bursting out of me.

They were not so kind to Rob, however. "What a creep," one said. "Bastard!" said another. And he was! But even though I know they meant well, looking back on it now — as I hear them rally around another friend whose marriage is likely to bust up — I'm wondering if that's as helpful as just being a sympathetic but nonjudgmental ear. I mean, what if we got back together? Those little dinner parties might be a little uncomfortable with Kat and The Man Formerly Known as Bastard in attendance.

There are a lot of complicated feelings if one of the "sisters" gets a divorce. We may be living in the year 2007, but sometimes the thinking is more like 1934, when "The Gay Divorcee" came out. Women, including your longtime female friends, are still afraid that single women — and that means you — are a threat to their marriage, and sometimes they are right — not because the new divorcee wants to be, but because a lot of men lose all sense of boundaries and reality.

Not too long after Rob and I split, I was hanging at the Sweetwater when I ran into a married neighbor I barely know beyond the occasional smile and "Nice day, isn't it?" chitchat. Somehow through the grapevine, he had heard of my split and at least some of the nasty little details. "Any time you want to talk," he said with a lusty pseudo-sweetness into my ear, "I'm here for you." And then he put his hand on my butt.

Right. You'll be the first one I call ...

But even if you haven't turned into a threat, some of your married girlfriends look at your newfound freedom and sexual explorations with longing and jealousy, especially if their marriage is on shaky grounds — and, sadly, I don't know many that aren't.

Somehow, you're ousted from the casual get-togethers and sit-down dinner parties unless there's someone they can fix you up with or you can find someone on your own. Five is an unhappy number for an intimate soiree.

But the true test happens in the dating world. That's when you learn a lot more about female friendships and females in general, and it isn't always pretty.

Several weeks ago, Kristin and I made plans to head over to the Buckeye for a glass of wine, maybe dinner — a little catch-up time. And, of course, flirt time.

That afternoon, I checked my cell phone voicemail.

“Hey, it’s me. Listen, about tonight ...”

I didn’t even have to hear the rest of the message. I knew exactly what was coming next.

But — glutton for punishment that I am — I listened anyway, partly miffed, partly disappointed and already working out alternative “Whom can I call?” scenarios in my head.

“Remember that guy I met last week, Paul? He called and wants to take me to Farallon tonight. I know we had plans but ... you don’t mind, do you? We can get together next week. Kisses!”

It wasn’t the first time Kristin had dumped me or another girlfriend at the last minute for a guy. And I must fess up — I’ve been guilty of that myself a few times in the past. But it’s been bothering me more and more, and not just because it sometimes has left me all alone on a Friday night.

It's why I hate call waiting — if you’re talking to me, talk to me. You can call the other person later. If it’s an emergency, she’ll get through. And if you make a plan with a girlfriend, don’t break it for a guy — and it’s always a guy.

There are exceptions to that, obviously, like if he happens upon tickets to "Avenue Q," a Giants game or a backstage pass to a Springsteen concert. I mean, I’m not the Girlfriend From Hell.

But if your girlfriend always dumps her friends whenever a guy comes calling, it sends a message: “You are only important to me when there are no other options with men available."

And if a guy calls a gal last minute and she’s always available, it sends a message to him, too: "I don’t have friends, activities, plans — or a life — without you.”

It isn't any better if she tells him that she’s made plans with a friend but she’ll "see if I can break them." If I were the guy and a woman said that to me, I’d think, “Hmm, if she’s so willing to break a date with a friend, one day she may break a date with me if a better offer comes along.”

Sean, the single dad I see from time to time, doesn’t get it.

“If a friend called and said, ‘Dude, that hottie I met last week just called and we’re going to get together,’ and we’d made plans, I’d say, ‘Go for it!’”

“But, isn’t it rude?” I protest.

“Babe,” he laughs, “he’s going to get laid.”

Hmm, it's obviously a gender thing.

Of course, just as distressing is the girlfriend who’s got a New Man, or the phase I call “O Girlfriend, Wherefore Art Thou?” You've been girlfriend junkies together and now you have to go cold turkey. You go from this intense "let's go here, let's do this" relationship and daily phone calls to ... nothing. She doesn't call to tell you which hot band's playing where and do you wanna go? Oh, she's still going — but with New Man. It's just as sad and lonely as a love breakup.

Of course, I'm ecstatic when my friends find love, or at least someone who holds the promise of it. And I know they feel the same way about me.

Maybe it’s just that, as a single woman I’ve come to realize — and truly treasure — the incredible comfort and love of girlfriends, and have tried to nurture that more than I ever did before. Husbands and boyfriends may come and go, but girlfriends hang in there for a long, long time. I mean, who else could I turn to for advice — “Definitely wear those jeans — they make your butt look great.” And who else is going to say, no matter how judgmental it may be, "Bastard!"

And so when I saw there was a voicemail on my cell phone from Kristin this week, I didn’t even have to hear the rest of her tearful message. I knew exactly what was coming next.

I called her immediately.

"Oh sweetie. I'm so sorry. Come on over and I'll make us some Cosmos ..."