Free MWF Seeking BFF by Rachel Bertsche Page A

the street from her—which leads to a gossip fest about another mutual friend and her husband, who neither of us particularly likes. The conversation reminds me of a study that found people are more likely to connect over a common dislike of someone than a common fondness for him. It’s called the negativity bond, and it’s hard at work here. There’s also a girl who goes to Hilary’s gym who we both know and find completely objectionable. That helps. Suddenly we’re running our mouths about local restaurants, East Coast upbringings, the fact that she dated a contestant from
Survivor.
    “Um, you’re kidding.
Survivor
is my favorite show,” I say. “Jeff Probst is my celebrity crush.”
    “Oh jeez. You should have dated this guy. I’ve never seen the show in my life.”
    It turns out Hilary is training to qualify for the 2016 Olympic trials, which makes the status updates more forgivable. That she’s the first to mock her own obsessive posting earns her even more points. I can accept the updates if, when we are eventually BFFs, I’m allowed to tease her about them.
    Claire’s nice, too. I don’t think we’ll establish an independent friendship just yet (and every time she speaks to me she grabs my arm, which makes me want to scream something about personal space), but she’s plenty friendly and, for now, that’s good enough.
    “You’re a reader, right? I think I remember that from the last time we met,” Hilary says to me.
    “Yup. Or, at least, I like to think I am.”
    “You should totally join our book club,” she says.
    I have to decline—I draw the line at two—but it leads to a great discussion about what we’ve read (
The Spellman Files
) and what we’ve loved (
The Help
). From there, we move on to movies and television.
    This is what I meant! TV, books, organic conversation. Finally.
    “You ladies want to take a shot with us?” There are three men at the bar shouting over to our table.
    “It’s Monday night. We’ll pass,” Hilary says.
    We take this as our cue to leave, but not before Hilary and I make plans to go to yoga tomorrow. I hop in a cab, excited and surprised that the night was so much fun. There’s a warm and fuzzy tingling I don’t recognize. Could it be an inkling of friendship? The realization that between Hannah and Hilary, I might have two new, local friends? That are all mine? I look out onto the skyline of my not-so-new city and for the first time I feel like a Chicagoan. Like, just maybe, I belong.

CHAPTER 4
    The next day, I’m on a post-date high. I’m so pleased with how my evening went that I’m not even fazed when Hilary texts me to bail on yoga. Something about dinner plans she couldn’t change. I should be disappointed—our first follow-up and she’s already canceling—but I’m too encouraged by the fact that my Judgy McJudgersonness was off base. For the past seven weeks I’ve been sizing up the prospects before we’d even met: She lives in a fancy neighborhood, must mean she’s trendy and too high-maintenance; she posts smiley faces on Facebook, must be a saccharine dud. The fact that Hilary turned out to have big-time potential makes me think that my having so many preconceived notions of who my BFF would be is exactly why she doesn’t yet exist.
    Going forward, I’m vowing to approach each date with an open mind. I can’t completely rid myself of natural tendencies, but just being aware that I tend to write people off too early should help matters. I’ll say yes to every invitation (when they start pouring in). Sure, I’m shy and judgmental when itcomes to meeting new people, but things can change. Hilary surprised me. Who’s next?
    FRIEND-DATE 8. I’m especially excited about dinner with Jen, an old Northwestern classmate, because after just a few emails I’ve scored an Evite to her birthday party. I’m glad to have penetrated the outer circle, but that’s the easy part. Now I need to see where exactly I belong on the friendship