I’ve been friends with Blond ‘Fro for almost 15 years now. While we don’t see each other as often as we used to, seeing as we are both attempting to live #adulting adulty lives, him in the ‘burbs with his sweetheart, me clueless in the city, there is something comforting about having a person who has shared moments of truth with me through so many years. I value those few people who help me stay grounded, and who take on the burden of maintaining these friendships, as I drift through life rudderless.
I met up with Blond ‘Fro for our quarterly drinks & talking shit session, and he gave me a belated Valentine’s day gift. “You know, whenever I see anything that relates to failed relationships, the first thing that pops into my head is “Hey! This is a good gift idea for Vanilla!” I can’t help it.”
We’ll store that under #annoyingtruthsonlygoodfriendscangetawaywith.
Blond ‘Fro expected me to ruefully laugh, which I did. He didn’t expect me to open the box of chocolates, right then and there in the bar, and eat two of them, as I explained the perfect timing of his gift. For how could he have known that I’d seen ICB earlier that day?
ICB and I went to Ikea on March 2nd, we had a great time. I felt cherished and taken care of, a novel experience. I don’t let people take care of me because I don’t believe I am worthy of such treatment and I know I am incapable of adequately reciprocating. But things between ICB and me had lately grown to levels of cautious mutual support and comfort, such that when he took action to care for me, I felt secure enough to let him.
A few days later ICB called me up in the middle of work and announced a bombshell. The growing preoccupations in his life had reached a stage that he felt no choice but to take drastic action. If he didn’t resolve satisfactorily the situation by his birthday in 2 months time, he would move back to his home country and start fresh. I was stunned. It’s true, this was something he had briefly considered in the past, but I never took him seriously because he acknowledged the many serious drawbacks of this option, including the volatile economy, deep political instability and violent uprisings in his home town. He asked me if I would help him accomplish part of this, by taking on some of the admin work required for this option, seeing as I am really good at all things bureaucracy. Incapable of processing what was happening, I agreed.
As the minutes ticked by, the hurt threatened to overwhelm me. For the first time in a long time, I cried uncontrollably at the office, grateful for the door that gave me privacy. We exchanged increasingly tense texts for the next few hours, until finally another phone call. He didn’t understand why I was making this about me. I tried to explain that I wasn’t exactly, but that it was a pretty brutal way to find out that all my hopes and dreams and happiness regarding him were not to be. He reminded me that it wasn’t a certainty, he would only pursue this option in 2 months time, if nothing worked out between now and then. I agreed with his relatively measured approach, but pointed out that regardless of what happened in 2 months, he’d taken the decision now to prioritize me out of his life. And that hurt me, deeply. So deeply that I needed a time out, because I didn’t trust myself to interact with him without lashing out. I needed 2 weeks to work through my stages of grief from his decision.
Those 2 weeks turned into 3, and then almost 4. We finally saw each other yesterday to clear the air. Being a man, and therefore not in touch with his emotions, it took a few tries before he admitted that he’d been hurt by my sudden withdrawal from his life, that he felt betrayed that I could abandon him in his hour of need. I apologized, explaining that it was the best I could do in the circumstances. I tried to get him to understand my hurt, but instead all I heard was, “I don’t understand how you could react so strongly about a decision about my life; you know how much I need to fix this current situation, how much it is holding me back; you and I would have never worked out anyhow; there were no promises between us.”
As he left, he asked me, “We cool? I really value our friendship.”
So did I. While I might not hold any grudge against ICB – I care about him too deeply for that – all trust has been destroyed. It takes me hundreds of hours of time spent with a person to slowly reveal myself. ICB had a talent of breaking through my defenses and forcing me to reveal more truths about myself than I was willing to show. Despite my fears that in getting to know me, he’d eventually see how worthless I was and run away, he stuck around. I’d gotten to the stage where I trusted him, allowed myself to be vulnerable around him, and that safety was a source of joy and stability in my life. But that is all gone now. I cannot be vulnerable with someone who has made it clear that my place in his life is optional.
What is friendship, if not the sharing of moments of authenticity and truth? Once upon a time, we shared moments of joy. Now, we share those memories, I suppose, and careful talk about the weather.
I wish him success, I do. He is right to try fix the issues in his life, as only he can. I acknowledge that ours was probably not destined to be a great love story. But it remains that as I trusted him enough to show him parts of myself that I keep hidden from the world, I imperceptibly came to rely on him as a steadying presence in this dizzying life. It is disappointing to learn that the value I placed on that connection was not shared equally. Nobody’s fault, I suppose. But it fucking sucks.