So, how long have you two been friends?
A decade, more?
Have you toted the duration of your year-long friendship on social media?
Have you tagged #bffs or #__yearsstrong to make everyone else envious of your sitcom-approved bond with your bro/sis?
Me too.
But let’s get into it:
You’ve hung out and panicked because your lips fail to flail with extended periods of conversation. You’ve screamed internally at accepting the fact that you and your “ride or die” have possibly grown apart. There has simply been nothing to say, sometimes. You’ve grown so busy with work/relationships. You begin to feel you're talking like estranged neighbors; you're chatting about the weather, asking dead-ended "how are you's" and sinking further into a world where the stress of your job is the only noteworthy subject. You’re just—dare I say it, different from each other?
If you haven't experienced this, then perhaps what I'm describing is merely hypothetical—or a very accurate depiction of the near future with your friend. It's uncomfortable when you part ways with your longtime comrade and you feel as though something is missing. You begin to rack your brain for the moment you two became people who were trying so hard to think of things to say. You just want it back to how it used to be, but you can't seem to find the correct door that leads to the good ol' days of the past.
But wait.
To combat this terrifying notion of you two growing apart, there is the belief that silence shared between two people is an indication of well-developed comfortability. It is supposed to mean that you're so close, that you don't need to fill the air with consistent blabbering—or not.
The unexplained silence between good friends can cause panic that makes the foundation of your bond quake with worry. But why is it so nerve-wracking to understand that friendships change? The answer may be in that, no matter how hard we try, we can’t detach our understanding of friendship from the fictitious realm of television. So perhaps, we are not entirely to blame for our expectations.
Take Meredith Grey and Cristina Yang in "Grey's Anatomy." There is something comforting about knowing that your best friend will be available whenever you need them, even if it means jumping into bed with them for an impromptu cuddle session. Somehow the brilliance of these characters isn't focused so much on the fact that they have successful careers, but that they've been able to be vulnerable enough to call themselves each other's "person." I can't fathom them hesitating when it comes to who their emergency contact is. That sort of dependence is... inspiring?
Then there is Shawn and Corey of "Boy Meets World." The duo maintained a bond that lasted from middle school to college and thereafter, considering the show's spinoff "Girl Meets World." If you wanted to know what was meant by the saying, "the best relationships start with friendship," Shawn and Corey breathe life into the very thought. Their friendship was saturated with couple-esque behavior. If it were not for the telephone being invented way before the show aired, it could be said that the besties coined the trope, "No, you hang up first." Cute, as long as their girlfriends are content with coming second to their bromance without the letter "b."
Perhaps your expectation of friendship isn’t limited to one individual. For those who have the luxury of having multiple people to resuscitate the dying embers of the group's camaraderie, shows like "The New Girl" fuel unrealistic depictions of how adult friendships are maintained. Were your dreams crushed when you never got the chance to live your late twenties with your troop in an impressively furnished apartment? Did you want—so badly— to come home from a bad date and hash it out with your roomies on a couch that was big enough for all of you to get wasted and fall asleep on? Bummer.
The reality is that some friendships aren't prepared to withstand the sudden changes that come with time. There isn't a manual on how to truly deal with the ways in which our personal paths can divert away from each other, carving such varied trajectories in different directions. We began these bonds assuring one another that we would always be friends, that nothing could ever change our connection and that we could make it through anything. The words resound so loudly in those moments, but the chime of those reassurances can fade as we change.
Do you feel attacked? It's okay if you do.
So what do we do? What do you do when your gal pal decides she wants to get pregnant and doesn't have time to listen to your stories about one-night stands? Where do you go when your bro can't have you over to watch the game because his in-laws are coming over for the weekend? How do you deal with the reality that your friend group can't get together as much because you all live in different parts of the country now?
We adapt.
I've always believed that the best of friendships are like two trees, stretching upward together throughout the years they last. The tough part is coming to terms with the fact that each tree needs their own space to grow. Two trees that are too close to each other will have a tough time when their own respective branches need to stretch outward from their trunk. If they don't there is collision, things become suffocating and the branches snap under pressure. It's very "Colors of the Wind," but follow me.
The problem that we have with friendships changing stems from the fact that we consistently yearn for the glory days; we feed our nostalgic cravings to be who we used to be together, neglecting to accept that there is the possibility to propel the relationship to new heights. We remain in place, stagnantly watching time carry off our cherished bonds instead of keeping up with the chariot. We get lazy. People are supposed to grow—allowing the word "apart" to be attached to that can be within your control.
So perhaps you can plan to travel to see your friends, or maybe even connect with them via video chat. Send a meaningful text every now and then, without expecting them to respond so promptly like when you were teenagers. Record the game for your buddy and ask when he's available to rewatch it with you or send him text updates on the score while he deals with his wife's parents. Help your sis with her baby registry, support her want to have a child and be prepared to be the best drunk aunt the baby will ever have. Save a drop of liquor for your bestie, too—she'll need it.
Adaption is key and if it isn't in the clause when you begin a great friendship, it would be rewarding to scribble it in. You'll need it.
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