Congratulations, the Best Is Over! by R. Eric Thomas

Author:R. Eric Thomas [Thomas, R. Eric]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Biography & Autobiography, Cultural; Ethnic & Regional, African American & Black, Humor, Form, Essays, Lgbtq
ISBN: 9780593496268
Google: WwWiEAAAQBAJ
Amazon: 0593496264
Goodreads: 71872896
Publisher: Ballantine Books
Published: 2023-08-08T07:00:00+00:00

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In the movie Romy and Michele’s High School Reunion, the titular best friends memorably maintain a long-standing fight over which of them is the Mary, as in Mary Richards, the lead from The Mary Tyler Moore Show. Neither wants to be the Rhoda, her brash, unlucky-in-love neighbor. It’s a shorthand for two people trying to claim agency after having been underdogs their whole lives. I get that. But I wondered if I was in a phase of life where I wanted to be the Rhoda. Sometimes you just want to show up, eat someone else’s food, and bounce.

Mary could, as the theme song claimed, turn the world on with her smile, but Rhoda, infused with Valerie Harper’s flinty energy, was the one who could give it to you straight. She was sometimes the confidante, sometimes the coach, and often the comparison—neurotically complaining about her weight or her love life to her seemingly more put-together friend. Rhoda is an anxious person who uses humor as a shield and a bridge at once. This, I understood deeply.

In the second episode of The Mary Tyler Moore Show, written by Treva Silverman, Rhoda gets herself into a typical pickle trying to set up a double date for herself and Mary. Mary’s date is obsessed with Mary, as everyone seems to be. But when Rhoda calls to invite over a man she’s met in passing, the man gladly accepts the invitation, then says he’ll bring his wife. On the night of the get-together, feeling like a third wheel (or, really, fifth wheel), Rhoda buries herself in a bowl of chips. “Allow me to introduce myself,” she declares to no response from Mary’s besotted beau. “I’m another person in the room.”

In therapy, Brian suggested I join an app to meet casual acquaintances. “Like Grindr?” I asked. He looked at me quizzically and clarified. It was called Bumble BFF; it was a section of a dating app specifically designed for people who wanted to make friends. I made a profile and did what I used to do on dating apps: shared way too much and injected so much personality into the “About Me” section that I seemed deranged. “Allow me to introduce myself,” I wrote. “I’m another person in the room.”

Shockingly, very few people responded. Didn’t anybody watch Nick at Nite in the nineties? Most of what I found on the app were straight couples who lived outside DC, looking for hiking buddies. This was a bridge too far. I hadn’t been willing to go on a hike to get dates, and I certainly wasn’t willing to traverse nature in order to build a third-wheel friendship with a political analyst and a development director living in Silver Spring.

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