Someone I know once said he had many acquaintances. But far
fewer friends.
That made a great deal of sense to me.
We all know a lot of people we like, and enjoy spending time
with, but not that many who would be
there for us – and we for them – no matter what.
These are acquaintances. Maybe we would be there for them no
matter what, but it’s far less certain whether they would be for us. That doesn’t make you like them less, or think
ill of them, but it should lower your expectations of how deep your
relationship is.
Think of it this way: you probably know hundreds of people
on a first-name basis. You’ve gotten close to a much smaller set – had drinks
with them, maybe dinner out, or hung out together. Colloquially, they’d be
called “friends” but in reality, they are just people you are friendly with,
and they with you. They are, in fact, actually acquaintances.
Now think of how many people you could really call a friend.
Think carefully. Forget whether they could call on you in any emergency, you
would pick them up if their car broke down, or you’d give them the safety of
your home if they felt threatened. Or if
you’d be willing to put yourself at some risk, financially or otherwise, to
help them out of a bad situation with no expectation of something in
return.
In short, don’t use what you think you’d do as the standard
for a friend. We tend to have
unrealistically high opinions of ourselves until tested. Even if you’ve already
done those things for people you know, don’t expect everyone else to do the
same.
Real friends do all that and more if needed, not to earn
your friendship or with an expectation of something in return, but simply to
help you out. You may never need that help, however you know if they could they’d
come through.
I suspect I may have four or five real friends today. I’ve probably had many more in my life, who,
for whatever reason, are now lost to me, most likely because our lives or
careers simply diverged. I still think
of many of them fondly and at times wistfully remembering the good times we
shared. I hope they feel the same about
me.
So now I’m down to about four. That’s probably about average for many men if
they were honest with themselves. Of
those, almost everyone has been a friend of mine for decades, from college, from
work, from a mutual acquaintance, or someplace else. Whatever it was, we’ve
always been there for each other.
They could call me up at any time and I’d always be glad to
talk for as long as they liked. I call
them every now and then, too, and they give freely of their time as well. We’re
never too busy for each other. We laugh, we commiserate, we enjoy each other.
Here’s the strange part, and maybe why they are really friends: weeks or even
months can pass between calls or emails, yet as soon as we make contact again,
it’s like no time has elapsed at all.
We don’t always agree politically, culturally, or whatever,
but we remain friends. Our friendship transcends our differences.
Think about that. Especially now when politics has divided
so many people who always considered others as “friends” can no longer even
speak to one another.
Over politics, of all things.
So were they ever really friends? Perhaps not.
