ALL my best friends, past and present, are blonde.
Some are ash blonde, others honey blonde and one or two are blonde by their own design.
Since I can remember, all my very best buddies have been blessed with golden tresses.
I dont know why. It’s just an observation that has struck me as quite curious.
As a brunette, of the mousey brown variety, perhaps I have lived vicariously through them. Blondes have more fun, so people say.
In my pre-school days, I imagined my blonde friends were Cinderella and I was Snow White.
Not sure of the psychology of this, but it may explain why I have an aversion to really short men.
On to high school, where blonde girls ruled, insofar as they were treated like princesses by legions of pimply, wide-eyed boys. Blondes, perhaps because they stand out in the crowd, seemed somehow special and it was difficult not to want to be in their company.
Throughout adulthood and my working life I have unconsciously surrounded myself with golden-haired girls and basked in their reflected glory.
And while my closest friends share a common follicle feature, they couldn’t be more different in personality type.
Primary school buddy Dianne was - still is in fact - as honest as the day is long. Although small in stature, she is not afraid to call a spade a spade and could always be relied upon in a playground crisis. Back in the ‘70s we were the dynamic duo, and best of all, there were never any arguments when it came to playing our ABBA heroes. She was Agnetha and I was Anni-Frid. Dianne was also good at maths. I admired her ability to add, subtract, multiply and divide. It’s no surprise she ended up working for the Bendigo Bank.
Joanne and Julie both were blonde. We all lived within a couple of blocks of one another and spent endless summers baking in the sun.
Obviously my fairer-skinned friends came off second best in the tanning stakes. Peeling skin and blisters were sadly the norm throughout adolescence. Now, we know better. We were like the Three Musketeers . . . all for one and one for all. I liked them both equally.
They came as a bit of a package and were fun to be around. Julie was a whiz at burping and farting on demand, and Joanne had the biggest record collection I’d ever seen.
Don’t know what became of Julie after high school, but Joanne and I stuck together for a while and she was my bridesmaid.
The last time I saw her, six years ago, she was living in the West. She chose not to have children, instead surrounding herself with animals, and was running a dog grooming business in her back yard.
What we discovered was that our lives, interests and aspirations had diverged so much over the years that our friendship was over. No tears, but some great memories.
In my 20s, there was another Joanne, a gun netballer; Sharon the super mum; Elizabeth the intellectual; and Jenny the can-do-queen of public relations.
All blonde and not one of them dumb.
Changing jobs, moving across the state, and life in general made it tough to keep the lines of communication open and our friendships going. I wish I had tried harder with some.
For the best part of the past decade there’s been Sally and Amanda. Sally, a fellow journo mate from my time at the Herald Sun, is a hoot. She is the embodiment of the classic best buddy. She’s loyal, trustworthy and always fun to be around. We share the same ideals and have travelled similar career and life paths. Sally knows many of my darkest secrets, and I hers. Everyone should have someone in whom they can confide.
And even though we don’t see each other on a daily basis anymore, we remain connected.
When we do touch base, we pick up right where we left off. Amanda is a corporate high flier with a heart of gold. Tough but fair is her modus operandi in all things. A Yorkshire lassie, this thin, leggy blonde is a knock-out in so many ways. I am one of the few people to have seen her sans make-up and power suit, and count this as quite a privilege.
She’s not superficial, rather an extremely private person. Up close and personal, Amanda’s remarkable generosity of spirit knows no bounds. She always makes time for me, no matter how busy she is at the time.
Amanda is the friend you turn to when the chips are down. Not only do you get sympathy, but a strategic solution to your problems, tactics to implement, and enough motivation to get out there and change the world.
I love Sally and Amanda.
The colour of their hair is not important. We’ll all be old and grey one day. What’s important is that as my best friends they know me, but love me anyway.
Friendships are hard to find, even harder to maintain, but well worth the effort.
I’ve not always been the best friend. Apologies here to Shelley, my new best blonde friend-in-waiting. I will call you. I promise.
The daily grind of life often gets in the way of investing the time and energy into friendships, but we neglect them at our peril.
It is said, the only way to have a friend is to be one, and those who find a faithful friend find a treasure.
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