Friends Like Us
Of all the possible stories to tell, it is always the ones about friendship I want to hear. Whether it’s the b-plot of a television show or an alliance between characters in a novel, I will seek out the beats of friendship and cling to them. I’ll even dare to say I prefer it to romance.
Having never been in a serious romantic relationship, perhaps it is natural for me to gravitate towards friendship. It’s what I know best. But I’m not quite sold on that theory. Experience aside, I feel like everyone has a preference: A) family relationships, B) romantic relationships, or C) platonic relationships / friendship. This definitely presents itself in the kinds of stories you like to hear or see, but it might also materialize in your personal life. Maybe you only feel truly yourself around your family, or you’re a serial monogamist because that makes you feel safe. I’m not prepared at this time to make a sweeping generalization about my preferred relationship type, though what I can say is nothing moves me quite like a story of friends.
Don’t get me wrong, I’ve made it very clear how I feel about romantic-comedies and love plots in general. I love them. I also appreciate the occasional family saga, especially involving siblings, and find those stories fascinating. But I will always circle back to friendship, and the beauty of a platonic relationship. It is the middle ground between blood and romance that is both precarious and steadfast. It is technically not essential to the continuation of the human race, but we’d be miserable without it. We don’t have to choose friendship, but we always do, and that is already a beautiful story.
I recently read Dolly Alderton’s Everything I Know About Love, which I reluctantly devoured. I thought it was going to be a party girl’s memoir about sex, drugs, and rock n’ roll (it is a little bit), but Alderton flips the premise on its head by the end. Everything she learned growing up as a teenager, then college student, then terrified-lost-girl-in-her-twenties, brought her back to where she began: with her childhood best friend, Farly. Farly is the side character in all of Alderton’s stories and is only recognized as the unwavering through line in the last few chapters. It is a slow but powerful realization. The best friend comes out of the woodwork even though she was always there.
Though I don’t have one particular friend from my early childhood, her memoir made me think of all the friends I’ve made along the way. The ones from schools I left behind. The ones scattered across the globe that still write me letters. The ones from summers now fading in memory. The ones from high school that have very much become my family. They’re my little army. I shoot a text, pick up the phone, or show up at their door and they answer. For (basically) no other reason than that they like me. And I like them.
I adore sitcoms so much because of that friendship element. Friends, How I Met Your Mother, New Girl. Disqualifying rom-coms for a moment, my favorite niche of film is just “friends hanging out.” The Big Chill. St. Elmo’s Fire. Reality Bites. Don’t even get me started on music. Almost any love song can be viewed through the lens of friendship and would have a higher likelihood of making me cry. I am rarely made emotional by a piece of media I’m consuming, so I’ve found it interesting that, when I do, it’s often because of friendship plots. The whole story of Fleabag begins with Phoebe Waller-Bridge’s character mourning the death of her best friend. The monologue Greta Gerwig gives in Frances Ha – locking eyes with that one person across the room at a party and knowing you are each other's person –- is about her best friend. Emma by Jane Austen! Grey’s Anatomy! Toy Story! All of those stories make my heart swell.
Part of the reason is because it’s not easy to be a friend, let alone a good one. I truly believe it to be one of the best things a person can be. It is the foundation for every other relationship. Yet, you’re rarely taught how to do it and maintain it. The rules on how to be a wife, father, son, and sister are clear. The same cannot be said for the rules of friendship. You know more of what it is not than what it is. I like to view that as a freedom, instead of a limitation.
All of this has been on my mind recently because of something my friend, Rhea, said. She told me a story about a man who had to move away for work, but was hesitant because he would be leaving his best friend behind. The move was incredibly hard for him because of this and very few people understood the kind of loss he was going through. It made the man realize how socially acceptable it is to move for family or romantic partners and less acceptable to do so for friends. Or, in his case, stay for a friend. For some reason, that relationship doesn’t hold the same weight. This man, Rhea, and I all agree that it should. It feels like the pure and steadfast platonic relationship is a novelty these days. Bad friends are aplenty, so, when you find a good one, hold on to them.
I mark the stages of my life by the friends I’ve had at each point. Some were there a moment and gone the next. Some stayed longer than they should have. A select few have come back into my life, which is the most lovely surprise. It is such a privilege when good friends carry onwards with you from stage to stage. They never have to, but, if you make space for them, they will hopefully want to. Then you are the lucky one.