When I think about the many humiliating moments of my life so far, I don’t ever remember my two sisters being there – and I think this is because it’s impossible for me to feel embarrassed in their company. Let’s face it – once someone’s seen you wet yourself in the Brownie Friendship Circle then watched as Brown Owl and Tawny try to track down the village hall mop, nothing you do or say in front of them will ever embarass you again – and that’s why they make great best mates.
I only realised that my sisters were my best friends when we started discussing our future imaginary weddings. We were talking about the qualities we’d want in a bridesmaid and the general consensus was that it had to be someone who cares about you, will put up with your freak outs and, ultimately, give it to you straight if you look like a wanker in a veil. They would do that for me, and I’d do it for them – and although I have some really amazing, loyal close girlfriends, it would be hard to be that unapologetically frank with anyone but my sisters. We argue and make up again within five minutes without the need for a post mortem of long chats and heartfelt apologies. It’s easy to forget all the rows because there have been so many – and that’s OK.
I don’t care about looking cool in front of them either, because no matter how many times I’ve reinvented myself over the years, they were there when I tried to make rhinestone encrusted bandanas work – they didn’t judge me for it then, and they don’t judge me for it now. A sister won’t care about that time you wore an orange puffa jacket with detachable sleeves, because they were standing right next to you in the green one.
A sister won’t care about that time you wore an orange puffa jacket with detachable sleeves, because they were standing right next to you in the green one.
There’s that quote from Almost Famous that goes, ‘The only true currency in this bankrupt world is what you share with someone else when you’re uncool.’ That’s so bang on point when it comes to the stuff that bonds sisters. A few years ago I had a close friend who, when we were going out together, I knew I had to make an effort for. It’s not that she was a mean girl, it was just easier to be around her in full make-up and good clothes in the same way you feel better going to work feeling smart – those things give you more confidence to be your best self. But it doesn’t matter what I’m wearing around my sisters. I could be could be dressed in tea stained PJ’s with Sudocrem on my face and feel exactly the same as I would in something brand new. Our relationship is deep, not fickle. We’ve shared moustache bleach and I was there when they got their first periods.
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Don’t get me wrong, though – there are some things I get from my relationship with my friends that I can’t get from my sisters. For example, when my friends lost their virginities my reaction was to get excited with them and sit wide-eyed and giggling as they recalled every detail, fumble for fumble – but there’s no way I’d want to talk to my sisters about their sex lives like that. And while I’d always make an effort to get to know a good-for-nothing guy my friend is going out with, I’d have very little tolerance for any dickhead dating my sister. There’s a maternal instinct, even when my older and far more mature sister is in trouble, that means I can never just sit back and watch them learn from their mistakes. Nothing has since sobered me up like witnessing my little sister smoke for the first time, and when she went on a lads-on-tour holiday to Magaluf I barely slept for worrying that she was OK. When my hot mess friends tell me their latest drama-filled anecdotes, I laugh. If my sisters did the same thing, I’d be horrified.
There are no IOU’s amongst sisters. There’s room for everyone to fuck up
Sisters do act as a great middle ground between parents and friends, though. I remember once in the aftermath of an argument with an old boyfriend I called my big sister at midnight from a train station in the middle of nowhere to inform her through sobs that I was coming back home for a while. She stayed awake, picked me up from the station and took me back to hers where we watched Sex and the City and ate beans on toast into the wee hours. The next day she took the morning off work so I’d have someone to talk to about it. Pride and stubbornness had stopped me calling my parents that night, and guilt had stopped me calling friends, who I feared had already been burdened enough with that particular relationship. But she didn’t judge, and she hasn’t mentioned it since. Don’t get me wrong, my relationship with my sisters is far from perfect - this same sister has previously driven me to the point of rage and remembering the way I repeatedly refused to let my little sib sit with me at lunch during secondary school because she was a few years younger still makes me feel guilty. I’ve permanently removed friends from my life for less, but they can pretty much mutter as many bitchy one-liners and forget to call me back as much as they want, because there are no IOU’s amongst sisters. There’s room for everyone to fuck up.
Nothing about considering your sisters as your best friends is cool. It sounds like you haven’t been able to snap up any strangers willing to hang out with you, or like you’re from one of those families that goes on bonding holidays where you do trust building exercises in a forest and then sit around a camp fire singing in unison with a tambourine. Even so I’m pretty sure I’ve struck gold with my lot. Would we be as close if growing up there wasn’t the obligation to spend so much time together? Probably not, but I’m glad our friendship was forced on us, and if they want to disagree with me on that one – that’s fine, too.
**Follow Helena on Twitter @hezzlehazzle
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This article originally appeared on The Debrief.