My blog posts I Don’t Want to Be Your Friend and I Don’t Want to Be Your Friend Either are my two most highly view posts. If you haven’t read them they are each about a girl who didn’t want to be my friend anymore. The first one tapered the relationship off slowly, and the second ended it succulence.
Now what you may not know is that within 20 minutes of posting these articles, each girl called me. Low and behold those who were once unavailable, ignored phone calls and text messages, and had placed me on the back burner to rue in perceived disgrace read my blog. And they were upset to say the least.
So the questions is, why does it take a public outing for girls to respond to, “Why don’t you want to be my friend?“
Everyone knows that Los Angeles has many things to offer its residents; food in trucks, endless night-time fun, and traffic that takes 45 minutes to go 6 miles. We also know that the people who occupy this city are often narcissistic, flaky, and use relationships like tokens equivalent to monetary value. It’s hard to say if LA does this to us, or if it takes that special breed of individuals to move here.
Whatever the case, we are left with relationships that seem to lack that certain genuine quality from grade school. One could argue that with the advancements in technology, our social graces have been forced to take a back seat. Social media has created superficial relationships. A ‘like’ is symbolic of a high-five. Sharing that link is retelling an amusing notion. And defriending someone is a slap in the face.
This week I noticed that my high school best friend defriended me from Facebook. Turns out I had stated my opinions via post and she didn’t agree with them so I was deleted. We spoke (and by spoke I mean we message each other on Facebook’s instant messaging feature) and wish each other well in our increasingly separate lives.
Now don’t get me wrong, I was hurt. I mean, I was in the room when she lost her virginity for Christ sake. We had fought, cried, laughed, shared everything from ice cream to secrets, and she couldn’t even call me to say, “Stop being an asshole. Kids died.“
Granted, we live 3,000 miles apart, she’s married with a baby on the way and I’m still doing lines off mirrors at Viper Room. This was doomed as most friendships are when we grow apart. But why couldn’t any of these girls just say, “I don’t want to be your friend.“
Because it’s too damn hard.
Generation Y bonds through phones and computers. We meet people at social gatherings and whip out our Androids and iPhones and start connecting through Facebook. After all, we’re not really friends unless we are ‘Facebook friends.’ Hell, even if we are actual friends with the people we are physically with, we still feel the need to connect to those we are not with via technology. We are programmed to multitask friendships.
Note: There is nothing less flattering in a dark bar than the glow on your face from your phone’s display light. It shows all your flaws.
Friendship shouldn’t be built on an unlimited data plan. It’s more than a game request, Grumpy Cat picture and the occasional E-card. But social media and technology isn’t the problem. It’s us. It’s been us since the term frienemy was invented. Since we started asking, “What are you doing?” instead of, “I’d like to invite you to…“
Girl friends are draining. Anyone who has ever been part of a group message knows that. Girls send out five texts to say one thing. We need to talk about everything from last night’s first date to the fact that I had oatmeal, half a banana, salad, three fries, and a yogurt today. Most of the female interactions I’ve had seem like girls waiting for their turn to talk. The inter dynamics of a group of girls have been used for movies like Heathers, Mean Girls, and Steel Magnolias. Not to mention the natural jealousy we have toward one another based from a biological survival trait. Even our DNA is screaming “I’ll take you down.“
But even knowing all this we have a hard time not forming and remaining in packs. It’s hard to let go of your high school best-friend after ten years, or that roommate you had at a critical time in your life, or that slightly crazy friend you’ve only known for a few months. It’s hard to see women come into your life, touch your heart, and then tell them, “I don’t want to be your friend anymore.“
Maybe it’s because we’re afraid that the void will not be filled. It’s why we hung out with those cool girls that tease us a bit too much. Why we stayed in that abusive relationship. Why we’re still at that job that’s killing us slowly. It’s better to be unhappy than to be alone.
So, drawing from these radical conclusions of aversion to conflict and a lack of desire to create a hole in their life, I’m left with one question; Were we ever really friends?