Girlfriends, Grit, and the Guy Who Finally Got it Right

I’m a lucky girl. In the immortal words of Phoebe Buffay, “He’s my lobster.” But let me tell you — finding my lobster wasn’t exactly a smooth swim through the dating tank. It was messy, filled with heartbreaks, questionable choices, and more late-night “therapy sessions” with my girlfriends (and a bottle of Sauvignon Blanc) than I can count.

There were breakups so dramatic they could have had their own Adele soundtrack. Hello? It’s me, crying into my wine glass while my girlfriends picked up my 2 a.m. calls. These women are my unsung heroes — the ones who never judged me for ugly crying or ordering vodka when Pinot just wasn’t strong enough.

Being a girlfriend to a heartbroken bestie is a delicate dance. On one hand, you want to go nuclear on the guy who made her cry — craft the perfect assassin-level speech and tell him where to shove it. On the other hand, you hold your tongue (and your wine) because maybe — just maybe — he’ll pull his head out of his ass and realize what he’s about to lose.

For me, it was the unwavering love of these women, plus the clarity that comes somewhere between a tear-stained sleeve and a glass of cabernet, that got me through the chaos. And when I finally found my lobster — the one who stayed, who saw all of me and loved me anyway — I knew it had all been worth it.

So here’s to the women who pour the wine, the girlfriends who keep your secrets (and occasionally your dignity), and the love that’s worth every wrong turn, every tear, and every Adele song on repeat. Baby, I love you — and you were worth every sip and stumble along the way.