I have been away a while - partly due to being busy, lazy, busy/lazy and also because I got wind of the possibility that someone was effectively spying on me through my blog. Ironically, it was that same person's attempt to get in contact with me that led to me writing this post.
An initial text message left me saucer-eyed with shock, because, coincidentally enough, I had succumbed to a faint nostalgia that week, wishing that we could have been friends. Talk about being careful what you wish for! Ultimately, I was too smart to indulge that lazy impulse. However, it got me thinking about friendship, and why I make the choices I do. Why had the current people in my life 'made the cut', whilst others hadn't? Given my long-standing solitariness, what did I expect of those that I had actually deemed worthy of the title - what was a friend to me?
This was a question of particular interest, given that I lost two friends in quick succession earlier this year. We expend a great deal of space and time in popular culture and the media on speculation about relationships and romantic love, but nowhere near as much on friendships and platonic love. Sure, there are the odd bits of research here and there about how people with more friends live longer, etc., but friendship just doesn't exercise us like relationships do.
Now, I know it's blindingly obvious, but the whole unexpected-contact-attempt made me realise that friendship is supposed to be between equals. So often, though, it's not, and we don't even realise, because there is no guide to friendships the way there is for relationships. I think (or rather, my impression is) that we also devalue our friendships/underestimate their importance in our lives. When we get depictions of 'true friendship' in films and on TV, however, it is often as heartbreaking and beautiful, if not more so, than great romance. At the heart of that well-known show The Inbetweeners, for example, the friendship between the four main characters is the silent, crucial constant that sustains and counterbalances their frequently disastrous, devastatingly humiliating attempts to appear 'cool,' popular and confident with women. I was struck dumb by the perceptiveness of Laura Haddock (starring in the film version as Will's love interest Alison), who described it as effectively a teen male version of Sex and the City.
To return to my earlier point, though - I think that because we tend to frequently devalue our friendships and/or underestimate the effect that they can have on us, we don't accord friendship the consideration it deserves. The two friendships that I'd lost had imploded for apparently similar reasons. However, as I pondered more, it became clear that this really wasn't the case at all. Starting with the reaction I'd had in the aftermath of each loss - once the dust settled a little, they had effectively switched around. The first friend that I'd lost, I had known a relatively short while, whilst the second was one of my oldest and closest friends. Initially, it seemed that the old friend's loss hit me harder (as one would surely expect). I was extremely unsure about what to do and spent a lot of time consulting with other friends. We fell out completely via Facebook chat, and I emailed the exchange to my closest friends to get their feedback. Had I been too harsh on her? Was I justified in feeling the way I did? What should I do next? For the most part, they were in agreement with me and made various useful comments, such as: 'If you have to ask yourself whether you want to keep her as a friend - I'm not sure that you do.'
What strikes me now, looking back, is that what I mistook for grief at losing my friend of several years was actually an intense mix of bitterness and disappointment. She had started off as the kind of friend who, in her own words, would 'spoil other people for you' (if I recall correctly) and chasms had opened slowly but yawningly between us. Any mild grief I felt at losing her was easily outweighed by disappointment and the sense of shock and betrayal. The exchange had been akin to talking to a member of my family, with a level of self-absorption, denial and insensitivity that overcame me and felt like a back-handed slap from a supposedly 'close friend.' I realised that, much to my surprise, not only did I not miss her particularly, but that I had no real wish to be friends with her again. A vague desire for 'closure' of some kind (fuelled by her becoming a Facebook 'zombie' - a Friend who's on your list, but who's no longer (or never really was) a friend, who you are effectively skirting round all the time) led to me contacting her. The anticipation such occurrences creates was certainly notable, but I felt relieved that I had the answer now, whether she replied or not. She had nothing really left to earn back the title of 'friend,' and a whole lot of mistrust to dissipate. I feel sad that it ended as it did, but it felt good to know that I had pulled my weight and then some. It was her time to make good; I love myself too much to let her in again without serious work on her part.
In stark contrast to that, however, my feelings about the other friend. I will call him RV, because there's a lot more to say when it comes to him. His being a 'new' friend and our friendship being somewhat tempestuous, I convinced myself that he didn't really matter that much, and that I was 'over' him. This always felt rather hollow, however, and I could not understand why. This, coupled with the fact that one friend of mine always asks if anything has changed - i.e., if I've heard from him - when we speak, needled me. In the week after the other person tried to get back in touch with me, I dreamt about RV. He had been in the back of my mind and the dream seemed to crystallise my feelings in a new way. I awoke, and realised: 'I need to get RV's forgiveness.' The release of this truth to myself allowed long-overdue feelings of mourning to burgeon, now placed into emotional structure. I didn't want to mourn him. I missed him. Oh, the relief, to admit it! I missed him, and I loved him - terribly (I am shedding some much-needed tears as I write this). I had no idea how to get this across, however. Feeling full of myself, I had tried to 'make up' with him in a childish and arrogant manner on occasion, only to get shot down in flames. Which I absolutely deserved, although I didn't realise this at the time and compounded my errors by texting him abuse.
Periodically, I attempted to re-establish contact; a later, more adult and brief email was ignored as had been all other forms of contact up to that point. Thinking he must really hate me, I gave up and he stayed in a tiny alcove in the back of my head until recently (as you know from above...). Last night, reflecting on our history and some of the amazing things he had done as my friend (getting my dissertation ready for me to hand in, travelling across London into a rather awkward social situation for me), the full horror of my stupidity and self-absorption hit home. I was floored by grief, love and regret. Realising that this was going to be one of the most difficult emotional situations I would ever have to handle, I sought another very dear friend's advice. She was astoundingly insightful and made me realise that I had failed miserably in considering his viewpoint. I had gone charging in, assuming that he couldn't live without my friendship and expecting to be let off lightly. His refusal to do so simply marked him out as a target for insults, rather than making me appreciate just what was at stake and how much emotional heavy lifting I would have to do. Not only that, but I had projected onto him so much of what I had been seeking from my ex-boyfriend, that it was a wonder that he could get any of his real personality across to me through my blinders. True, our relationship had begun to get healthier, but I had fucked it up before it could really blossom. I had fucked it up.
The greatest irony was that I had come full circle from the outrage I felt at the person who had attempted to contact me, to realising that I had become that very person myself. All the attributes that had tipped me over the edge - insensitivity, self-absorption, arrogance - I was guilty of displaying towards my friend. I doubt he'll read this, but I realised that I desperately needed to hold myself accountable in a way that I could record and remember. I will be lucky if he forgives me, and I'm not betting on it; if he acknowledges any contact from me, that'll be a small miracle in itself. Behaviour that I would normally consider beyond the pale - texting someone constantly, grovelling, being rather emo - I have been engaging in. Yet it doesn't feel wrong, as it did with the other friend. It feels like the least I deserve, but I can hope for forgiveness.
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