Please Like Me (But Keep Away)

by Mindy Kaling

I had dreams of conquering my social anxiety and being a part of an inseparable group of girlfriends in Los Angeles. We would have stylish Sunday brunches with free-flowing Bellinis and, when one of us got engaged, a bachelorette night spent cruising down Sunset screaming woo-hoo from the back of a long white limousine. We would help each other through breakups and be instrumental to setups, but men would never be as important to us as one another. If that all seems basic, it’s because it is! It’s a basic human right for women to have female friends.

My barometer for making friends is that you can’t get to know someone by hearing about everything they like—you need to hear about what they don’t like. It’s only when you are willing to go out on a limb by admitting you’re not a fan of something that you’re vulnerable enough to earn my trust.

So my second realization was that I would rather be lonely than be friends with non-friends. Losing friends is hard, but losing fake friends, as it turns out, is pretty damn easy.

B.J. understands my social anxiety. He knows I crave company but don’t like most people.

John Mayer singing a song that isn’t even a John Mayer song;

because all of my best material is still unused, I can recycle that birthday speech for B.J.’s funeral.