REAL FRIENDS
Kayne West’s 2016 album The Life of Pablo was pretty epic. There are a lot of songs on that album that ended up on repeat in my iTunes library. While there are a few really good songs, one song — I think — means more than the others: Real Friends.
Was the song just another classic Kanye West diss-track aimed at a rival rapper? Was it based on the true story of Kanye’s own cousin blackmailing him with incriminating evidence on a stolen laptop? Or, was it another classic Kanye attempt to excuse himself for his own behavior? While the story about the cousin is true, there is a deeper level. Despite Kanye acting — for the most part — like a dramatic douchebag, I think he had different — and surprisingly not douchy — intention. He argues we have lost real friends.
But what is a real friend? Everyone has a different definition, but semantics aside there is a simple concept behind that special friendship. A real friend is someone you feel comfortable talking about anything with, someone you would recruit to rob a bank if your life depended on it, and someone you would do the same for if asked. A real friend is someone who’s got your back, and you got his or hers.
Real Friends was not an abrupt awakening for me — over my four years at Middlebury College my friends and I have tackled this issue in one way or another.
More often than not the conflicts and dramas that occupy our social lives center on our frustrations with unequal friendships. We observe that our interactions with another “friend” are lopsided; they’re heavily skewed to the benefit of one individual over the other. I do not mean that this inequality of friendship is akin to a business interaction.
Maybe you find yourself always trying to engage with one particular friend but he or she never seems to reciprocate, listing excuses and lies at every attempt. You know, that one friend you always feel inclined to text when you’re trying to go out or you’re just trying to chill, but when you do shoot them a text you realize you’ve texted them “hey man what’s good” the past six messages stretching back four or five weeks and they still haven’t replied. Five days later you finally get the reply: “oh my bad bro I was busy what’s up?” Yeah, fuck that.
Maybe you’re always doing favors for someone, going out of your way to help them out in a rough time or even just in general, but they never offer the same help to you. Like that one friend you agree to drop-off and pick-up his dry cleaning even though you have to leave for work, in the process realize he didn’t give you any money to pay for his own frekin dry-cleaning, and then he “forgets” to grab your laundry-service bag for you? Yeah, fuck that.
Or, maybe you find yourself constantly on the receiving end of your friends’ frustrations, desperately trying to rationalize their behavior to avoid feeling like the constant punching bag. You know, your friend has five midterms — even though they are in only four classes — and they are stressed out of their minds and acting like a total ass but you don’t say anything because you understand they are going through a hard time. But when you are stressed out studying for your exams, writing your thesis, applying to jobs, or waiting to hear from Graduate programs and you lose your temper one time because you’re running on literally four hours of sleep the past two days, your same friend rips you a new one, calls you an asshole, and ignores you for the next week until they maybe get over themselves. Yeah, fuck that.
The decline of real friendship is not unique to Kanye West, nor is it unique to Middlebury College. It’s caused by a universal depreciation of personal friendships — a decline in their appeal, meaning, and significance.
For me, it is as if we have lost an appreciation for what friendship means. Being called a friend meant something. When I first started school, I didn’t have friends: I had one friend. He was my neighbor, the first person my age that I met outside of my immediate family. We went to school together; we ate lunch together; we stole chocolates from our Kindergarten Teacher’s stash together. Obviously there were other kids that I got to know, but Robert was my friend, they weren’t. Now the word friend is thrown out colloquially all the time without any appreciation for what the word — and the relationship you develop with another person — represents.
[Verse 1: Kanye West]
Real friends, how many of us?
How many of us, how many jealous? Real friends
It’s not many of us, we smile at each other
But how many honest? Trust issues
No, I am not an iconic rapper whose net worth is currently $145 million, but I do relate to what Kanye is saying here. How many of my friends are “real” friends? Do some of my friends have intentions other than friendship? Most importantly, why are they treating me this way? This verse captures that specific moment — something like an emotive force, a heavy realization — where one realizes that the people you call your friends possibly don’t care about you at all.
[Verse 3: Kanye West]
I hate when a n***a text you like, “What’s up, fam? Hope you good”
You say, “I’m good, I’m great,” the next text they ask you for somethin’
How many?
Every week I’m asked to complete another bitch-work favor for someone who I know would do nothing of the sort for me. It’s funny, now I see through all of these encounters. I’ve heard them all by now: “Dude, come on, for the boys,” or, “I wouldn’t ask if I had a car,” or, “I would if I could but I have, insert another bullshit excuse, here) later.” While doing such favors for someone is innately annoying and frustrating, I’m talking about the unique sense of frustration dealing with these “fake” friends.
You probably know that feeling: you’re in the middle of a conversation, but a faint smoke alarm goes off in the back of your head. You’re no longer even paying attention; you’re just frustrated, maybe even pissed off at this person for wasting your time.
I am not trying to say that I am constantly looking out for people trying to take advantage of me, but nowadays I hear that alarm more, and more, and more. Now I question the purpose of almost every interaction. I even now question what to call my friendships: are we friends, or just acquaintances; are we class-friends, lab-buddies, or are we bros?
[Verse 3: Kanye West & Ty Dolla $ign]
To real friends, ’til the reel end
’Til the wheels fall off, ’til the wheels don’t spin
To 3 A.M., callin’
How many real friends?
Just to ask you a question
Just to see how you was feelin’
When I first started writing this piece I felt alone, overwhelmed, and unimportant. I’m not married to Kim Kardashian, I’m not the center of the paparazzi, but I too am going through “some real shit.”
I took a good hard look at the people around me. I know that I’m not the only one going through tough times, but I found myself questioning everyone and everything.
I felt nobody had my back, and I was frustrated. I was there when you broke up with your girlfriend; I was there when you blacked out while on Molly; I was even there covering your ass when you broke the wall in the hallway of our Sophomore year dorm.
I know you probably don’t mean to be a dick. I know you probably don’t mean to come across as a bitch. But the simple truth is I’ve been there for you. Where the hell were you?
