Classifieds | Archives | Jobs | About TGT | Contact | Subscribe
 | 
Last updated 0 minute ago
Printer Friendly Version | TGT@Twitter | RSS Feed |
HOME LOCAL MIDEAST ASIA WORLD BUSINESS SPORT OPINION WRITERS
Sara Al Mheiri: Cheesy friendship movies
June 20, 2014
 Print    Send to Friend

I slammed the door and jumped onto my bed face first. I put in my headphones and blasted the first song I could click on to drown out the world. And when I say the world, I mean my college friends. How could they do such things to me? I thought we were best friends? Didn’t my high school teachers always tell me that’s where you will meet your future bridesmaids? Yet, there I was. Lying on my bed, feeling so isolated and angry at the world but especially at myself. I picked up my phone to check the time zones and figure out which friend to call and sob my heart out to. High School friend.

All through high school, teachers, parents and the media fed us the notion that high school relationships, and especially friendships, would never last. The movie, The Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants, perfectly exemplifies what happens once you say your goodbyes to your old school. I know it’s a silly tween movie but my brain has just shut down on ideas so bear with me; trust me it will make sense. It’s about four young best friends whose last existing tie to each other is a pair of magical jeans that fits each of them perfectly. It’s the only thing that brings them together and helps them communicate. Now, bring that plot back to real life, subtract those worn-out jeans and instead replace it with old fun memories of the days where life was a whole lot simpler. That’s technically all my high school friends and I talk about. How we used to do this and that and oh, remember the time when Mrs Whatsherface told you off! Or so I thought (about the friendship, not Mrs Whatsherface).

That’s not the case. At all. In fact, all I want to do is slap just-recently-graduated-from-high-school Sara. Really hard. For thinking this was going to be the case with my best friends. The people who I grew up with for more than seven years. Those long, painfully awkward seven years where they watched me grow from an awkward mono-browed teenager to a grown woman who was on her way to an unfamiliar territory confidently. I often think to myself, if they stuck by me all those years when I looked like the not-so distant cousin of Quasimodo, why turn my back on them all of a sudden? All because ‘you were going to meet new, cooler people.’ I remember the last day so distinctly, where I merely walked away, with my head already erasing their names in order to make room for my college friends. To be fair, my graduating class was only thirty something, so you do get a little bored from hanging out with the same people all day, every day. But still.

I went off to college, ridiculously excited. I felt like the little puppy who was finally allowed to go to the park and meet the other dogs and humans. Constantly wagging my tail and sniffing other b..ts (again bear with me and my well-thought out analogies). I barely spoke to my old friends and when I did, all I talked about was what I had been doing with my new friends. Never asking them what they had been up to. The thought never even occurred to me, until one day, one by one my new, “cooler” friends began to drop like flies. And the homesickness began to kick in. I would sit in my room and just stare at the painstakingly made posters filled with photographs of our youth that all my friends made for me. You idiot, I thought to myself.

When I went home last Christmas, I made a vow to myself. Never cast away your family ever again. The grass is never greener on the other side. Although there were, and still are, a few patches of ravishing emerald grass, to whom one day, I will be making photo-filled posters of our crazy days at college. Now that I am back here, in Dubai, for the summer holiday, I often think... oh, sorry I have to go. I didn’t even pay attention to the time, I’m going to be so late for the mini celebration for my best friend that we are having at a fancy restaurant. It’s fine, I’m pretty sure they’ll forgive me.
 
Follow on Twitter
 

Add this page to your favorite Social Bookmarking websites
Comments
 
Post a comment
 
Name:
Country:
City:
Email:
Comment:
 
    
    
Related Stories
Biba Kang: Bias stalks women of colour
The news that actress Aurora Perrineau has accused one of the writers of the HBO series Girls, Murray Miller, of raping her at the age of 17, has prompted a rather shocki..
Frances Acquaah: Grazia editing out Nyong’o’s hair erases part of black culture
The Oscar-winning actress Lupita Nyong’o has criticised Grazia UK for erasing her hair on the cover of their latest issue. Many think racism is no longer an issue in the ..
Biba Kang: When proclivity turns to abuse, it’s a crime
What is being described as “Westminster’s sex-pest scandal” is only increasing in magnitude, as more and more allegations made against politicians seem to reveal a deep-s..
Jamie Tabberer: Why you shouldn’t body-shame Harvey Weinstein
Does body-shaming Harvey Weinstein warp our perception of sexual predators? To be clear, I condemn sexual harassment and abuse in all its forms. The allegations made a..
Hannah Slarks: What decent men can do in response to #MeToo
Almost all women have had bad things done to them by men. But not all men are bad. Lots of men are reading their Twitter and Facebook feeds this week in horror. Lots o..
FRONTPAGE
 
GALLERY
 
PANORAMA
 
TIME OUT
 
SPORT
 
 
Advertise | Copyright