This week is the second in a series of essays about growing older.
Sometimes friendships are very frustrating for me.
Scratch that.
Most of the time, friendships are very frustrating for me.
I tend to require a sense of loyalty in my close friends that might be unreasonable. I like to think I’m as important to my friends as they are to me. Or more important.
I expect my friends to understand that sometimes I just want to be alone.
And sometimes I ask them to drop everything to spend time with me.
In addition to that, I’ve developed fragmented segments of friends. There are my friends from Pascagoula. My friends from Hurley. My friends from Ole Miss. My friends from Hattiesburg. My friends from my second tour at Ole Miss.
Few in these groups know people in the other groups. So I often find myself beginning to relate a story relevant to one group of friends to another group. I stop myself, realizing they don’t know each other.
I sometimes wish I could have a giant meeting where all of my friends could get together and meet. Then all our stories would universally relate to one another.
I’ll start planning that.
My real reason for bringing all this up is to examine two questions:
“Why are friends important?”
and
“What makes a good friend?”
I think I can answer the first question by answering the second question.
What makes a good friend? What determines who becomes a close friend and who doesn’t? What are we looking to gain from a friend?
These are tough questions to answer. Some of my friends are much like me. Others are vastly different. Some have characteristics I hope rub off on me. Others, not so much.
Some of my friends seem to have defied the odds in becoming close to me. How? Are they filling a need in my life? A need I don’t even know is there?
Are friends like vitamin supplements? If you don’t get enough calcium in your primary diet, you might need to get some Citracal pills. If I don’t get enough intellectual stimulation from one friend, do I end up seeking it out in another? Is it really that easy to explain?
I don’t know. But if there’s one thing I’ll promise, it’s that human relationships are never simple. I coined the phrase, “relationships are sticky.” They are. They’re sticky and messy. And after studying psychology in college, all I’m really sure about is how little I can be sure about.
I think the most important thing I’ve learned about friendships in the past two or three years is their value. The older I get, the more important friends become to me. Especially the ones I lost while growing up. I actually have a short list of people I’ve lost contact with. One by one, I plan to track them down. If one friendship comes from that list, it will be well worth it.
For some reason, we treat friendships like plastic forks when we’re young. We’re reckless with friends. If we lose one, we see a giant sea of replacements nearby. Time sure has a way of adjusting your perspective.
Here I am, on the brink of the biggest move I’ve ever made. I’m headed to a place where I know no one. I’m typically a loner, so that part doesn’t scare me. What scares me most is losing touch with friends. Reminds me of a John Mayer song.
Everybody is just a stranger but
that’s the danger
in going my own way.
I guess it’s the price I have to pay.
The story of each of our lives is still being written. That story is undeniably shaped by the people we have around us. Some bring humor. Some bring smarts. Some bring an analytical mind. Everyone brings something, contributing to your story.
My life is unquestionably richer because of it.
© September 12, 2006
