This is not a treatise on the well-worn sitcom Friends, a program I can no longer watch
without inexplicably vomiting bile from my eyes. It is instead, in keeping with
this blog, something of a moan. Any long time readers will have gathered by now
that I’m something of a malcontent.
It's still better than watching Friends.
While I’m loath to become one of those
still-relatively-young people who whine about becoming old, with a quarter of a
century behind me I do find myself stumbling into some of the social pitfalls
of age. My chief concern is the gradual fading of friendships.
Immediately
after university friendships are shed like a malting cat rolling on a crisp
white bed sheet, but the strongest connections remain intact. Far more
troubling is how these connections are slowly rubbed out in the following
years.
I’m somewhat socially awkward, not terribly amusing, and
unfairly scathing of pretty much anything that other people like. Shockingly, I
don’t make friends easily. This has made me all the more desperate to cling to
the few that I already have. But, as friends relocate overseas, enter into
serious relationships, and have children, it’s only natural that I become less
important in their lives.
The problem is that not everyone can be successful in such
endeavours. If we could all retreat into our marital microcosms, occasionally
offloading our offspring onto irresponsible teenagers so that we could meet up
and complain about how tired we are, everything would work out fine. But in any
circle of friends, there’s the one person who can’t quite manage this, and as a
result refuses to stop texting the others, inviting himself to their children’s
bar mitzvahs, sleeping unnoticed in their sheds. They even make movies about
that person.
Terrible, terrible movies.
You can tell where this is going – do I keep being the one
to text friends suggesting we meet up, when really all I’m doing is holding
them hostage? Or do I accept that they’ve moved on and back off?
One of my very best friends has recently been back in the
country for three months. Despite his arrival in the midst of one of the
deepest bouts of depression I’ve ever experienced, regular meetings with him
for this short period have made me feel better, at least temporarily, on every
single occasion. When he flies back to the other side of the world for at least
the next 18 months, it’s truly going to come as quite a blow.
The only other thing that cheers me up is Grumpy Cat
I suppose all I’m trying to say is that my friends mean a
lot to me, and, from a purely selfish perspective, I don’t want to let them
slip away. I’m deeply lonely. But perhaps it’s time to accept that if I really
care for them as friends, I should respectfully leave them to get on with their
lives.
I'm about to do one of the most irritating things imaginable to a writer and quote you to support my argument against what you're saying, so apologies in advance. "...it's time to accept that if I really care for them as friends, I should respectfully leave them to get on with their lives." Dave this is worrying - it sounds like something an abusive partner would say to his battered other half, or, if it could talk, a parasite with a conscience. It's clear from the relentless self-depreciation, though ingeniously articulated, that you have very low self-esteem, but you can't let it dominate your life like this. If you really care for your friends, you should become more of their lives, rather than retreating whimpering into the background. You're incredibly charismatic and I want to be your bloody friend, even if you don't want to be mine! I'll stop writing before this becomes too creepy and await your message (re)organising a beer, or a badminton thrashing, or whatever, eagerly.
ReplyDeleteI certainly know what you mean. I've been through all of that with the people I thought were friends as well. some people I've known for 35 years or more. so someone gets married and starts having kids. why does this mean you suddenly have to find new friends? Bottom line for me is this, most people are selfish and could care less about friendships or loyalty or nostalgia. They seemingly forget about you as if you never meant anything to them ever to begin with. to these people I say don't let the door hit a'where the Lord split ya'! Good riddens! selfish bastards who have no sentimentality at all, no loyalty and no sense of belonging to a group of friends. To hell with them!
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