The One About Friends

My night owl friend called again the other night, 3:30am. I managed to silence it and go back to sleep. It’s really a mild irritation on my part — this is just who he is, and he’s lonely and sentimental and he works until the wee hours. I get it. I just wish he were online in some way. I can’t be mad at him, it doesn’t work like that.

The real point there was how baffling it is to have to communicate (as opposed to choosing to) in an old-fashioned way, one that can feel tedious and like overkill, a sledgehammer to do a thumbtack’s job. I don’t need to write a letter, although if I feel wordy I might write a long text or email; I definitely won’t print it out, find a stamp, mail it, etc.

That’s what happened with my mother-in-law and technology. She became more and more isolated, particularly from her grandchildren. Again, I have no interest in commenting on the positives or negatives of the way things are now. They are, period. We adapt.

I’ve expressed a fair amount of feelings on the nature of friendship during this sickness; I’ve thought about it a lot more. It’s more general, even, more about relationships over the years.

I’ve tried to have some discussions with a few, just poking at history and trying to figure out who we were. Who I was, back then. It’s been hit and miss; just because I think things are worth exploring doesn’t mean you do. I take what I can get.

And while I’d enjoy hearing anyone’s recollections of me, since I’m pretty fuzzy on a lot of my thinking during certain periods, I mostly would like to ask a million questions of people I know. What happened, why, how. I’ve always been obnoxiously curious about things like this; now I have more time to wonder.

I’ve also seen relationships slowly self-select into friendship tiers, although this is entirely subjective on my part. For the first year of this sickness, I was down for the count so much that I didn’t really notice much, other than some people who were trying very hard to stay in touch. I would do anything for them, seriously. They sustained me, at least while I wasn’t asleep.

As time went on, though, I began to notice that people I used to communicate with regularly about anything — mutual projects, similar tastes in movies or books, family, recreation — had disappeared. In the past, it would be rare for a week to go by without something.

And then it was months, and months. This was a gradual realization on my part, that being out of sight really did mean being out of mind, at least for a lot of people. At first I fretted, worrying that I wasn’t keeping people in the loop. If my mood darkened, I’d sometimes get mad about the feeling of abandonment.

The worst part was realizing that some people dropped off the friend grid as soon as I could no longer help them with something. They don’t dislike me, I think; they just don’t need me. Bummer.

I settled down. I’ve definitely written off a few people, although some were always just acquaintances. And any social media commentary expressing anything but disgust at the life and behaviors and opinions of Charlie Kirk resulted in immediate unfriending/unfollowing. Happened 2-3 times, no great loss. Just cleaning house.

But other relationships required more judgment and nuance. This has happened all my life anyway; people move on and change. Facebook gave us a chance to reconnect, sometimes, but usually it’s just nice to see old friends living their life and finding joy, love, etc. We don’t have to be best buddies.

So I sort of shifted relationships into tiers. I stopped texting a couple of people to see if they would initiate a conversation, and when they didn’t I learned something else. It’s a tough lesson, particularly when I have a lot of affection for our history together, but that’s a good sign that one of us takes it less seriously. It’s fine. Nobody’s being a lousy person.

Maybe a lousy friend, but you know what? I’m a pretty lousy friend at times, worse now. I worry and wonder about people but I don’t follow through much. The only personal pain here, really, is having to acknowledge that my feelings aren’t mutual. I miss certain people. My feelings got hurt, I survived, and I know more about the relationships now. My expectations have lowered to next to nothing. Love to hear from ya; not counting on it.

There are a couple of people I never want to see again. I mean. That’s harsh, but if Julie wanted to invite them over I would object. You have no obligation to take my currently situation into consideration but then you can fuck off. That’s an easy call with limited energy.

And the best thing, which I think I’ve been very clear about but always can use repeating, is the friendships that have strengthened. Most of you reading this fall into this category. Honestly, it overwhelms any hurt feelings I may have about friendships. My heart has grown three sizes. I am a better person. Cue that “Wicked” song. This is all for good.