A Mismatched Pair

We were partners in crime once upon a time.

She: in Dior pumps. Me: in the Steve Madden heels I fished from a Marshall’s clearance bin.

She was the Mary and I was the Rhoda. Her closet was chockfull of labels, while my wardrobe was more “label-like.” Despite our clear differences, the one thing we shared was each other.

I resurrected this photo from my old files.

We dressed similar (preppy and sporty in the late 1990s, funky yet chic from 2001 to 2005), used the same slang (for instance, “gorge,” we’d say, when something was gorgeous), and repeated a mantra we cultivated together. It was as simple as saying, “We’re good girlfriends,” which in short meant we were stable and not slutty.

Fast forward a handful of years, plus one random fight, and we no longer were those good girlfriends.

Instead, we were strangers, borderline enemies. (My great breakup of 2007 was over a friendship. Go figure.) Sure, I had other friends, but losing one — one good one, at that — is probably as bad as losing them all. You feel as if a part of you is missing, right?

I look at this photo and I tear up a litle because I’m missing a shoe. Sure, this pairing wasn’t a perfect match, but they were complementary nonetheless.

So now I’m plagued with the question:

How do you mend a falling out?

How do you bring a mismatched pair back together?


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