BEST FRIEND?

Who’s your best friend?  If you’re with a friend, chatting, don’t ask the question.  I was asked, recently, by a friend.

Having attended 11 schools in 12 years, I never stayed long enough to have a best friend — or rather to be someone else’s best friend.  Anyone would probably have been  my “best” and only friend.

Oh, I blossomed to a degree during graduate school,  but coming down with borderline personality proclivities limited me.  When age cured my borderline tendencies, I was left with avoidant preferences (like staying home and talking to the ethernet.)  If you should be asked who’s your best friend, some might say Jesus, some might cite their husband/wife, some might recall a dear friend whom they  still cherish, but who moved far away and recently dropped them  from their Christmas card list.

I remember in the seventh grade pouring over the social pages  of our newspaper, trying to discover parties being given by acquaintances to which I hadn’t been invited.  Guess that was my masochistic stage.  Being an incest survivor didn’t help one helluva bunch.  And what about  a good friend plus a new good friend?  What criteria is used to judge “best?”  Of course the role  of neediness weighs in.  There are a couple of folks in constant  need, and despite all the talk of always being there for others, with staunch emotional support, what if they drain me?  I think my soul has shriveled up with old age.  But I’m not needy!  Don’t you worry about me!  (You’re supposed to laugh here.)

Back to my friend, maybe my best friend,  who originally asked me.  Faced with that unexpected question, I immediately flashed on how many friends she has, and constantly makes.   She’s an    incredibly vivacious, lovable woman who brightens her environment.  I imagined replying that she was my best friend, all the while knowing that would put me in a vulnerable light.  Something like, “You poor thing, if you think I’m your best friend, I’d rate you as maybe one of my thirty.”  Of course my wretched ego couldn’t handle that. Not from my best friend!

O, I forgot to mention that along the years I’ve also become a tad obsessive, so I plan to send her a copy of this post, (My best friend doesn’t visit my blog, nor my next-to-best one either).

About Nan Mykel

At 79, I was just about to stop keeping a journal, but that felt like accepting that growth was finished. I don't want to be finished, yet! I'm 80 now, and struggling to communicate with you, if you'll come and set awhile. P.S. My how time flies! I'm 82 now.
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One Response to BEST FRIEND?

  1. Shawna says:

    I can completely identify with this post. Really, my kids are my best friends.

    Like

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