I always assumed that couples don’t have any friends because they get so deeply involved in each other that there just isn’t enough time in the day to devote time to such a paltry thing as friendship. There’s also that strange mutation from large group of fun single people who are all friends, to large group of decreasingly fun people who are all in relationships.
What I am realizing now is that it’s not that couples don’t attempt to foster friendships, it’s that their friends just don’t want to hang out with them anymore.
My theory is that a relationship creates a socially coddled person who can’t take the harsh realities of the outside world. When you are in a relationship, your partner nourishes the side of you that would normally be called into question by any chemically balanced friend. Here are some examples that have no bearing at all on my life. These are just examples. You don’t get to cry at the end of Christmas specials without being ridiculed, you don’t get to force your friend to give you back rubs, and no friend would allow you to sit on the couch looking like a bag of clothing refused by Goodwill and watch seven hours of Twin Peaks. Eventually a friend would say, “I’m hungry, there is absolutely no food in your house but a butternut squash and oatmeal, and you need to brush your hair.” Who wants that when you can hang out with someone who says you look beautiful even when you look in the mirror and see that, in fact, you do not?
Additionally, my limited social graces are going out the window. I hate small talk. You may find that ridiculous considering this blog is basically dedicated to talk that is small, but it’s the truth. It actually pains me. I like meeting new people, but only if I immediately like them and can start joking about hunchbacks or bodily functions. Now that I am armed with a boyfriend who excels at chatting in an easy and friendly manner with complete strangers, I’m giving up. We were recently sat at a wedding with some random aunts and uncles of the bride and I just sat there and ate and sipped wine and smiled occasionally while he talked. It was heaven. I will probably never make another new friend.
Eventually I may realize that I want to make new friends. But by that point it will be too late. I will be unable to introduce myself and ask the appropriate getting to know you questions in a coherent fashion, will say “we” all the time even when standing by myself, and be otherwise unpalatable for friendship consumption. And then I will go home and comfort myself with Twin Peaks.
6 comments:
1. I have always cried at the end of Christmas specials (you never ridiculed me).
2. You have always forced me to give you back rubs. In fact, even though we are both in relationships (with other people), I think you are still the recipient of the majority of my back rubs. Mostly it is because of the pathetic moaning you do that sounds so very tragic.
3. No, we haven't watched 7 hours of Twin Peaks, but I'm pretty sure we've watched almost an entire season of Buffy the Vampire Slayer AND Firefly in one sitting. Plus, I'm sure you did look like a bag of refuse.
THEREFORE:
My contention is that you've always been like that... perhaps your man just pointed it out that it is generally unacceptable.
P.S.
As for the small talk thing, well, I've always hated meeting new people. They practically have to be forced into my sphere for months before I acknowledge their viability as a potential friend, and I have always counted on you to sort that out for me. If you are going to lose your knack, you must promise not to lose Sam, who through the transitory property of friendship, is my only link to the outside world.
Well. As a recent celebrator of a three-year anniversary, you may be past help. The fact that you have always tolerated my behavioral tics is (while fortunate for me) an obvious indication of this. What I'm saying is that my tics are only bound to get worse as Sam continues to condone them or at least, accept them.
P.S. I can't recall having watched a Christmas special with you. But if you cry, I will laugh.
God the horror, the horror, if your tics get worse.
Oh burn.
We have definitely watched Christmas specials. Maybe your memory is going along with your social intuition, because you were crying too.
Does this mean you're going to start laughing at me for crying when I, as a cross sample: encounter anything involving Oprah, read an article about gay marriage, look at a photo of the Obama family, or see a commercial for dog food with cute puppies sporting bandanas? My ego is already wincing.
And why is it that boyfriends get all the smalltalk skills? My relationships have all taught me to sit back and let the man do the talking. And I like it. Horrifying.
Post a Comment