When Friends are Asses Vol. I
I love my friends. I suppose we could argue about which way to draw the causal arrow; I love these people because they’re my friends…These people are my friends because I love them. Either way, I need them, they give me joy, they help me to plug along when plugging is necessary, they share my greatest triumphs. I always aim to do the same. It’s one touchy, feely love fest when it comes to me and my friends.
Except when friends are asses…and then…not so touchy, feely.
I think I’ve always held an “outside of the box” understanding of friends. I’ll admit I pay very little attention to the “rules and categories” of friends (in sociology, we’d call these normative constructions…god I am a nerd). So, I approach people first and then consider what’s going on in their lives. This explains how I’m friends with very few people who are actually like me (single, female, grad student, etc) and I have more people around me who are just plain interesting first. This bodes well for them (you); if I’m your friend, it means I’m really invested in you as a person…it’s not a friendship of convenience because our “categories” seem to match up. I think that’s the difference between friends and acquaintances…acquaintances are convenient and pretty transitory as the “categories” of your life shift, sometimes rapidly. Changing jobs, moving, graduating…acquaintances won’t follow you through those. Friends, however, will. This is Katie P.’s friend/acquaintance ratio.
Admittedly, it’s intense. It makes friends an investment…which can be work…but usually doesn’t seem that way…or shouldn’t.
But I’ll tell ya, when friends are asses by upsetting the friend/acquaintance ratio, it does not feel good. Part of the problem with my ratio is that not many naturally buy into it; most people do not approach friendships in this “to hell with categories” kind of way. I think because most normal people don’t live 95% in their heads–as I do. They don’t analyze their friends…they’re just friends.
Anyway, I have a friend who’s freaking out right now. He’s in a bad place. And yesterday, I think maybe out of fear or frustration…or stroke…basically explained to me that I’m just a friend of convenience–when in fact, I know this to be completely untrue. It’s a special day when someone you’ve really come to know as a really good friend looks you in the eye and tells you that when the time should come that you’re not in close proximity, you just can’t, or worse won’t, be friends. There is nothing more frustrating–because of it’s degree of ridiculousness–than this idea.
I could go on for hours about this. I’ve worried about it enough and come to the conclusion that it’s just simply not true. My arm chair psychologist inside tells me this is an existential freakout of his not mine and has really very little actually to do with me. But, you know, above anything else I think friendship is an agreement between two people, implicit or sometimes explicit, to choose the other. It’s one of the more tenuous kinds of agreements too–friends don’t take vows (unless you count pinkie swears), or “commit” to anything. It’s all assumed agreements and searches for setting up good and secure boundaries. It’s shady work sometimes. This is why I think trusting friends can be very hard…it’s an enormous leap of faith that can be changed tomorrow based on a lot of factors. So…this conversation…so out of character and far away from my understanding of the situation…it’s annoying. And disrupting. And stupid.
What an ass.