Friends:

‘I don’t need a friend who changes when I change and who nods when I nod: my shadow does that much better’

-      Plutarch

I make friends easily.  This probably explains why I have so little of them.  Leaving aside the honourable exception of my wife; I wouldn’t say I had a ‘best friend’, in the traditional sense.  Then again, what is a traditional sense, these days?  I reckon it is a combination of both personal and technological revolution that has brought this about.

I know my type, when it comes to friendship.  At school, I gravitated towards the geeky types, those who worshipped Tom Baker, slightly more than Kenny Dalglish.  These days, that wouldn’t be seen as out of the ordinary.  Low level geekery is almost a precondition of being a member of the human race.  I would postulate here, that geekery is a just a mild form of being an erudite human being.  I could count on the fingers of one stump; the fascinating conversations I’ve heard about books and art I’ve had with my workmates.

Of course, you grow up and get married, move away, lose touch.  This, alongside cancelling magazines subscriptions and choosing the cheapest supermarket; is the sad payoff for being a responsible, respectable, fully-functioning (sometimes) adult.  The people, who are with you, aren’t always going to be with you.  The geeks I associated with in primary school, I haven’t seen for over twenty years.  Sometimes, you move one way and The World moves the other.  I have no reason, inclination or desire to see them again.

Maybe: it’s technology that sent us down this solipsistic path.  I was a late developer when it came to social media.  Friends Reunited (ask your stepdad) was more my thing.  The latter caused several embarrassing interactions.  One geeky friend from secondary school got in touch with me.  I had to think of the connection that we had.  It was illegally copying ZX Spectrum games.  I looked at his profile.  It was him, sitting on a manky duvet, in his underpants, raising a bottle of whisky.

Ah, yesterday leave me alone. 

Twitter was my thing for a while, and then I moved into Facebook.  I needed assurance from my wife that it wasn’t the wild, scary place I thought it was.  Both have been incredibly beneficial for me.  Of course, I met her on Twitter.  But I’ve received advice from a brilliant Australian writer, swapped Panini stickers with a local newsreader.  My best friend, I would say: is someone I met on Twitter. In a traditional sense, I don’t physically see her that often.  We ‘tweet up’ every now and again.  That is the kind of parameters social media puts on friendships.  Conversely, when things have been bad personally, when the tsunami of shite that one human suffers in one lifetime becomes too much; we’ve both turned up in a dry, clean, warm blue boat.

Up in Liverpool, I have several friends.  And for that reason (and several others), we don’t see each other that much.  All of these are former work colleagues.  We exchange Christmas cards and birthday cards, the odd text message.  Most attended our wedding.  This is friendship at the true, modern level.  A piano playing the same key; rather than the full blown sympathy of what a ‘traditional friendship’ is.  I am sure, if I can make the time on a visit up North, wearing my big coat, I’ll see them again. 

At the same time, there two friends (in the loosest sense possibly) who are currently persona non grata.  I’ve known one nigh on thirty years, attended gigs with him, almost moved in with him at one point.  We’ve had more than a few share of arguments too.  Both him and his wife, seem to have cut me loose.  No contact for three years, plus the modern sigil of disinterest – the unfollow.  I have a fair idea why this is. At the same time, I don’t fucking care.  I feel certain I will become a character in her next novel.  Again I don’t fucking care.  I have a certain allergic reaction to people taking me for a bellend.  Some friendships aren’t worth either the mental and physical earache. 

So, here I am.  Typing away on a Spring morning in Devon, where the unseasonal  snow is melting.  I’m happy, in love, content, my mind is running and humming quite nicely on a new software update.  I’m not entirely friendless.  My wife’s friends and family have become my friends.  They offer the important things in life.  Support, hospitality, laughter, rock buns, babysitting.  Of course, I am being flippant.  I also know, that if I needed their support or friendship they would be there. 

Ultimately, friendship means different things to different people.  It’s like looking at a work of art and interpreting it one way, then the next person interprets it another.  No truth is cardinal.  That way, leads to chaos, unhappiness and a general, lingering sense of unsatisfaction.  Much like buying an Everton season ticket.

No-one is entirely friendless.  Conversely, apart from love; nothing is forever.  Friendship: it’s a tricky business.