On friends...

I remember one time in college when the school threw a big-deal dance.  Very formal, and lots of traditions thrown in for good measure.  One of these traditions was that it was up to the girls to issue the invitation and to do the pre-dance date.  So we had to make dinner reservations and plan the evening's entertainment.  Well, I had a friend who was the epitome of the 'guy friend' at this time.  Very nice man, and good-looking if I remember correctly.  I didn't have feelings for him, so he seemed like a safe bet to ask!  And I remember priding myself on how impeccably I pulled off the date.  We went to an obscure French restaurant and had a private table with flowers and beautiful wall sconces.  And then we went to a movie, but not just your usual theatre movie; I had bought 'VIP' tickets which entitled us to a special showing, in a private room with our own server to bring us popcorn and deluxe reclining seats.  As we went home I thought "You know, I'm a pretty good date!" 

I tell you this because I've always felt the same way about my status as a friend.  I'm a good friend; I am more than happy to help you clean your house before company comes, watch your children for you, pick up a few groceries while I'm at the store that you need, or whatever.  I try and think about my friends when I'm out and about: "Did Jane say she was running low on flour?  I should pick some up for her."  But just like at the end of that date, I expect something in return.  With that friend, after the evening was done, I wanted him to say "Thank you for such a well thought out date!  You really listened to what I said I liked and boy did you deliver!"  And I got that because, as I said, he was a really nice guy.  I may also have gotten a kiss on the cheek...but anyway, that was just a bonus. 

With friendships, I want reciprocation.  Now, that's not saying that I keep track of things I do for people in some sort of mental checklist of sorts.  Nor is it saying that I do things for other people to get them to do things for me!  Both of which I've been accused of when I've said that I like reciprocation.  No, what I mean is that friendship is important to me, and like any good relationship it involves sacrifice on both sides.  If only one side is sacrificing, then the burden starts to weigh heavier and heavier on them, eventually forcing them to abandon the relationship.  Friendship is not marriage; it can be terminated.  And most often it ends 'not with a bang but with a whimper' as one friend slowly drifts away from the other...

There is nothing so sad as drifting friends.  I can't help but feel the wastefulness of it.  So many hours spent together, so many confidences shared, so much of my life given to you and so much of yours recieved...and now we're just going to let all of that mean nothing.  And it's funny which friendships survive the years.  My very dearest friend in the world is a girl I met in kindergarten.  Our friendship has survived several huge arguments, moves to Newfoundland, New Brunswick and Toronto, two marriages, two children, other friendships that came and went on both sides, her rampant atheism and my fervent conversion serveral years ago; her decision to persue graduate level inorganic chemistry while I delved into British metaphysical poetry of the 1600's, and so forth.  And yet, I have no closer friend.  I was her maid of honour, we staggered out of our hospital beds newly post-partum and called each other, a thousand miles away, to introduce the other to our new baby, she was the first person I thought of when I wondered who, if I could pick anyone, I would have raise my son if it couldn't be me.

We have never drifted.  Sometimes we've gone weeks without speaking, sometimes circumstances have just made things difficult for a while, but the underlying friendship has never changed: she is like a sister to me.  But on the outside you'd have a hard time imagining two less likely candidates for friendship!  Certainly we share a lot of ideals, but I am a conservative Christian pastor's wife and mother to a son, living in rural Atlantic Canada, voracious reader, lover of skirts, cats, tea and British comedy while she is a very liberal fervent atheist, mother to a daughter, living in urban Ontario, stay-at-home mom and lover of conspiracy theories, way out there natural living, camping, beer and slapstick comedy.  We are, um, very different.  But you'd never know this from how we talk.  Every time we meet, so infrequently, we slide seamlessly into our conversation as though we just saw each other yesterday...