Dear
Philip,
I want to know if it’s time to break up with
a friend I’ve had since college. (We’re
both in our 40s, now.) I’m feeling sad
and confused because we were as close as sisters. We were in each other’s weddings and have
spent countless vacations together.
However, lately it has become a chore to see her even though she lives just
a half hour away. We don’t seem to have
much in common, we get annoyed with each other easily and we don’t confide in
each other.
I think she notices that I’m not making an
effort, and she seems upset. What do I
do?
Drifting Away
Dear Drifting,
I had the chance
to see the Rolling Stones a few years ago.
Great seats, fun venue, good company, but going would have involved
driving for several hours and getting a hotel room. I thought about it for a bit, and then
politely declined the invitation. Bruce
Springsteen and the E Street Band? Different story: I will commit minor
felonies and hitchhike across the country, even if it means standing in the
pouring rain and watching them from the last row of the upper deck of the stadium. Happily.
You, Drifting,
have a Rolling Stones problem.
That is, your
friendship has petered out to the point where it’s a nostalgia act: it’s all
“Jumping Jack Flash” and “Sympathy for the Devil,” but you’re starting to itch
for something of a more recent vintage.
Memories, you’re learning, are fun…but not the stuff of a dynamic,
robust relationship. Friendships that
last decades are a whole lot more Bruce than Mick.
I’m not talking
about musical taste: you’ll get no argument from me that the Stones have made
some of the most important, lasting music of the last half-century. The problem is that they haven’t added much
to their canon since…oh, probably 1981’s “Tattoo You.” Their concerts – for decades – have been
largely ‘greatest hits’ affairs, transporting fans to a very specific time in
their lives.
Which is what your
friend does for you. It’s great fun to
spend a few hours in an arena playing “remember when?,” but spending several
years that way can get tiresome…unless there’s something to anchor that warm
feeling to the here and now. You’ve got
a friend who’ll run the collegiate highlight reel with you, but it sounds like
you’re itching to share the present, too.
This is exactly
why I love Springsteen so: for every early anthem about cars or youthful
alienation, there’s a more recent song about the fears and joys of parenthood
or the acceptance of aging. For every
“Born to Run,” there’s a “Wrecking Ball.”
I’m happy for the reminiscence of the former; I’m grateful for the personal
relevance of the latter.
Nothing will take
away the connection that you share with your friend: in some ways, she knows the
young woman that you were better than anyone.
So unless there’s some real issue between you now, why ‘break up’ with
her? Those feelings of sadness and
confusion mean that you care about her on some level, so find that level and cultivate
it. Figure out just how much time you
want to spend on the friendship, and spend it happily. You write that she seems upset because you’re
not making enough of an effort…but maybe she’s upset because your anxiety about
drifting apart has made you a little distant.
Don’t be
distant. When you talk to her or see
her, be present. Not every friendship
has to be all things; embrace the fact that she’s your link to great memories,
and enjoy her company for that. Short,
happy visits are the key. Find things to
do with her that will keep the conversation – and the potential for boredom –
to a minimum. Make some new memories.
Might I suggest a
Springsteen show? Just, you know, maybe
cover her ears when the Boss sings, “Well time slips away/and leaves you with
nothing mister/but boring stories of glory days.”
Rock
on,
Philip
