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Litany of Dead Friendships (or America’s Most De-Friended)

I have been struggling with this particular issue for many years now. But in the wake of my dear friend James's death, I have been spending more time thinking about it.

You see: i am a member of the most de-friended club of america.

You may not have heard of it. Or, perhaps you are also a card carrying member yourself.

As I have written prior, I am not the easiest person to get along with. I try to imagine being a friend of mine. And when I do this, I come to realize that on the one hand I am perhaps the best, most loyal, most caring and loving friend a person can have. Honestly. But on the other hand, I think I can say with confidence that I perhaps expect too much from those I come to consider close friends (who ultimately I end up not being liked by). It's a weird thing, you see. When I say I expect too much... i don't mean I expect help. I don't mean I expect to hang out even more than occasionally. I don't mean I expect my birthday to be remembered (for I almost always forget the coming of it myself). In the material and sentimental sense, I don't expect much. What I do expect - nay, what I insist on is loyalty, honesty, and people willing to defend my reputation and honor in the manner I do for them. What I expect is that when things get nasty, they will be there for me as I would be (and have been innumerable times for them). Call it a contract. Call it an understanding. Call it what you will. But perhaps in this day and age it is too much to expect. It seems to be.

My difficulties usually spring from differences of opinion in which an honest and open discussion - a free exchange of thoughts among friends - is appropriate. When I do go out, there are many of these. So many that the depth of sharing of ideas runs into darker corners of the abyss - conversation among close friends is a wonderful gift. The free exchange of ideas, the sharing of the heart and the mind between able conversationalists is really to be treasured. Invariably, however, I believe I have a habit of overestimating my friendships... even those forged over many years and many beers and hundreds of intense conversations and friendly jabs of wit. Even these have their limits. I seem to have a knack for stepping over the line even when no line has previously been considered... when no out-of-bounds has previously existed.  It is the sudden imposition of concern for feelings, etc, that seem to allow feelings to be hurt where no such quarter was necessary before. Invariably this costs me friendships.

SB - a long-time and very close friend from college had some difficulties with his wife. they split up. on account of him having an affair. he sent out what amounted to a broadcast to his circle of friends from college (yours truly among them) and took some fairly unfair swipes at his wife... who he had cheated on... the mother of his child... the woman he had sworn to cherish. He made her out to be nuts. Perhaps she was. I replied to all with a scathing chastisement and the request to be removed from his spam list. He and I were very close friends. I haven't heard from him since, despite reaching out several times. He was wrong to assassinate her character publicly. I called him on it. SB - perhaps one of the most crass persons I have ever known - SB could not face the music. The point is I thought I had, through years of close friendship, an obligation to correct him. In marrying her he had asked me (and all of his friends in so doing) to treat her as we would treat him. Had someone spoken that way about him... humiliated him in the manner he had his wife... whom he had cheated on... who had birthed his child... I would have done much more to correct it.

AT - the best man at our wedding... and dear, dear friend. I also lost him. To give you an idea of the depth of our friendship, he flew in from his homeland, Japan, for a week to be at our wedding. He gave a magnificent speech at our reception. He was as close to my wife as to me. We were inseparable through the tail end of highschool and throughout college. In the wake of 9-11, we were corresponding and it became clear he believed that we were, in effect, asking for it... this, because of our foreign policy. Needless to say, I shot back an email reminding him that these were innocent people who died and that I expected him to have more sympathy for his adopted country than he was displaying. That was that and I haven't spoken to him since.

TW - More recently, I had a theological discussion with a person I considered a close friend. Unfortunately, the minister he and his bride-to-be (she was raised Catholic, he was raised in an Evangelical home) selected claimed to be a "Roman Catholic priestess". Of course, there is no such thing, no matter what she might want to claim. I informed him that his unfortunate selection would likely cause a good deal of problems for her relations in particular (forcing them to forsake their own Mother Church), and that I could certainly not attend - silence being consent and all.  This was no small matter of open-minded ecumenism. This was a BIG Enchilada of an issue. Of course, that nuance was lost in the long-run, where I was made out to be all hatey and closed-minded, etc.. The added bonus was that TW, in the very same conversation, said he wasn't even sure he was a Christian in belief. I informed him that perhaps a civil marriage might be more appropriate, given his lack of belief. That was that. What was an honest conversation between friends - what had been a friendship forged over years - ended. So did our friendship for all practical purposes. But beyond that, various other "affiliates" and acquaintances branded me persona non grata.

I have a bad habit of doing this. I expect too much. Perhaps I over-estimate the berth I ought to be afforded when I am among close kin.

I must say I would like to call it genetic. Perhaps it is a family miasma of some sort. That way I could avoid taking some of the credit for these friendly disasters.

Fishman tells of the time he visited our great-great grandmother's grave in Knocknagree, County Cork, Ireland. When asked what the people were like there, he commented that they have a name for them: "Corkers". Roughly translated, I think it means "motherfuckers" or "assholes".

When I speak to my dad, it becomes increasingly clear that he has two types of friends: those who have already died and those who he has offended (and might now be dead as far as he would know).

You've heard me lament about my boy's challenges. It makes me wonder.

I am old enough now not to blame everything on others - or even some things entirely on others. I know I have a hand in all the troubles in my life as it relates to people. So, I am not unaware of my own peculiar patterns. It's just frustrating to live in these times. My dad once told me the world has no use of dinosaurs. He was referring to himself, of course, and his Olde World sensibilities. He was/is a dinosaur. No doubt about it.

But this Raptor, his son, is tired. So tired. What's worse, my teeth are ground to nubs... mostly. ;)

Enoch_Root

AKA. Bobby Donn Brubaker (the most popular man in Mesa, AZ), the Umbrella of Terror, Jack Ketch.

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Enoch_Root

AKA. Bobby Donn Brubaker (the most popular man in Mesa, AZ), the Umbrella of Terror, Jack Ketch.

Website - More Posts