Friendship Mantras: grow where you are planted versus give without expectations
I never considered myself a “best friend” person. For as long as I can remember, I bounced between friend groups. My “best friend” changed daily at age five, weekly by age 10, monthly by age 15 and yearly by age 20. I do embrace the “grow where you are planted” philosophy. But I also often give too much without expectations. I’ve met thousands of mediocre, hundreds of “cool” and a few dozen captivating people over the course of my lifetime. I’ve invested nothing to receive nothing. I’ve invested nothing to receive true friendship. I’ve invested a little to receive a little. I’ve invested everything to receive nothing. I’ve invested everything to receive even more than I could have expected.
I see the “give without expectations” argument. I really do. I have been crushed by my own expectations before, especially during a new friendship’s infancy. To put it frankly — friendships are unpredictable and highly associated with proximity, timing and convenience.
It’s a cryptic way of looking at it but constant friend evaluation is akin to cleaning out my closet. As my interests, lifestyle and career evolves, I am sure to find T-shirts I haven’t worn in years, sweaters with snags and holes, a blouse that doesn’t fit right or a dress that simply is no longer my style. Change shakes up the foundation of a friendship and reveals any of those little loosely bound reciprocities. It’s like lifting a rock from the damp soil exposing the harsh sunlight to the tiny critters who once called that dank space their home. A few stay put; most scurry away.
Change is why I’m not still best friends with every single one of my college roommates. Many of whom I have shared some of the best laughs and memories of college. Change is how friendships grow. Or starve.
I guess I have always been susceptible to grudges. I have little tolerance for friends who take advantage of me or don’t show up in the rare instances I need them to. My willingness to toss an otherwise perfectly good friendship aside can be a bit rash. I counteract my cynicism with a conscious reminder on how prone humans are to mistakes and imperfections, myself included. I’ll think about how many times I have forgiven my family.
Beyond the cryptic idea that friendship is purely based on convenience and self-fulfillment, there are two elements of being human which interfere with logic-based judgment: intuition and vulnerability. Humans have the astounding capability to read a person’s aura. A story is told through their face, body, smile, eyes, style, voice, posture, gestures, attentiveness, humor, personality and intelligence. Our brain absorbs it all like a sponge and rapidly makes a determination about a person: a first impression. Most of the time, my brain decides how I identify a person. It uses logic to analyze that person in relation to myself and what I already know, continuously fine-tuning my initial assessment. My heart typically stays quiet, while my brain makes the decisions. My heart only involves itself in the rare instances when the person I meet is infectious from the moment I meet them. My brain says “yes!” to stimulation and my heart says “yes!” to passion. It’s almost romantic. When my heart speaks up and my brain agrees, I have no choice but to invite that person into the world that is uniquely mine.
So where do I draw the line between friendship refinery and giving selflessly?
I went to one of the largest public institutions in the country, but my major was a tight-knit group of 300 or so. Due to the structure of my program, almost all of my friends left for at least one six month internship in Corporate America. They worked full time, while I stayed in school. After a few transfer credits and summer classes, I crept past my peers, steadily approaching graduation. In the meantime, I made older friends who changed almost as quickly as I could make them. But heartbreakingly, not quickly enough. Each time my brain and heart agreed to consider them a “good friend,” that person left the state indefinitely.
One of my fondest memories of college was a baseball outing with a couple dozen peers, many of whom I had known for months but never spent substantial time with outside of classes and professional events. I can identify this particular night as the point in time a few of those friends reached the elusive “good friend” status. It was invigorating to see my peers in an element that felt so comfortable and entertaining. We played games, danced, laughed and even ended the night by being escorted out of the stadium after one of our friends decided to dance on the dugout (not my fault...). Sure, there was a little alcohol involved, but the most intoxicating part of the night was being surrounded by the kind of people it was utterly effortless to be around. It was the kind of night you go to bed smiling about.
Then it hits you like a bad hangover. They. Are. All. Leaving. Every single one of them.
The “grow where you are planted” mantra inherently implies I wasted my time. And I probably did. I left that baseball outing feeling deeply connected to everyone there but only two of those people I still talk to today.
But I have a history and propensity to dive head first into friendships. So I did and will do it again. And again. And again.
There is something exhilarating about courting a new friend with the mutual understanding that there are no expectations during the short-lived friendship affair. Like any passionate relationship story, I can’t help but become attached to the few people sprinkled into my life by fate. Rather than savoring the time I did have, times like the baseball outing made me want my new friends in my life for more than the six months I was allotted. I became captivated by how understood, entertained and at home I could feel in their presence. Purely making a friend happy was not always enough.
I see the “grow where you are planted” argument here. My brain said “yes!” and my heart said “yes!”. Letting my heart into the decision making process is undoubtedly a gamble. One of which my heart has lost more times than won.
That being said, If I tried to recount to you all the moments of surreal connection with people no longer in my core friend group due to the turbulence of life, I could write a novel of love letters. However, I will tell you about the people who will remain in my life for years, maybe even forever because I chose to dive head first into trusting a complete stranger.
There is: the person I see once a year and (uncharacteristically) can’t stop talking my head off and (soberly) laughing uncontrollably. The person it took me months to figure out is exactly like me and is the reason I even have Snapchat on my phone. The person it’s completely effortless to talk about anything with. The person who, after not talking to for years due to distance, moved to my town and we didn’t skip a beat. The person I’ve spent increasingly less time with over the past eight years but both know would drop anything in a heartbeat for each other. The person I realized cares for me like family. The person who has the exact same taste in food no matter how much time has passed. The person who knows frozen yogurt plans entail hours of venting. The person I’ve (platonically) invited into my bed after knowing for a week. The person who looks at me and knows, before I do, exactly what crazy mix of emotions I’m feeling. The person who knows we don’t need to talk to communicate. The one person on the planet whose jokes are truly more terrible than mine. The person who thinks I’m as funny as I think I am. The person who reminds me of my intelligence and encourages me to stay ambitious. The person I met during my first college class who despite her own crushing circumstances is always in an infectiously good mood. The person who has what seems like a million best friends but somehow finds a way to make me feel unique. The person whose ideologies directly conflict mine but loves, respects and wants to hear my views. The person who is a million times cooler than me but still makes me feel interesting. Then there’s my mom. And my sisters. And my grandma. And my dogs.
It’s not about who I’ve known the longest. It’s about binging on intuition. And investing, wholeheartedly, regardless of how much time is allotted, if and when that person feels the same. I am loved in all these unique and beautiful ways by a multitude of unique and beautiful creatures I’ve invited into my life without the expectation that they needed to stay. I’ve invested. I’ve refined. I’ve fallen down and I’ve fallen in love.
I know it’s idiotic to trust fall with a complete stranger. Believe me. I’ve gotten attached and fallen on my back more times than I can count. But I still choose to continue. I invest myself, knowing I will get bruised, because it is truly indescribable when a few times in life instead of falling to the ground, I fall into the arms of a friend who gives me an ice pack.
(And when I don’t, I call my mom. She has an ice pack with my name on it.)
