I enjoy making new friends, although I am not good at it. In a world that often feels so stressful and chaotic, there is something special about light conversations, where random abstract things are up for discussion: the weather; a good book; your recommendation from the coffee shop menu; a comment about the gym being hotter than usual. Easy, ephemeral, inconsequential.
For an anxious and avoidant person like me, these conversations almost feel like a test. Do we vibe? Do you think I am weird, or worse, boring? Are you funny? We might share numbers after or make plans to meet up for coffee, but every once in a while, when the conversation is done, you might realize you’ve just met your kin. This is definitely more challenging the older you get, so for something which you take granted as a child, it excites you as an adult. You begin the upward and fun hill climb of getting to know one another.
But what happens when you have this conversation with a friend? Easy, ephemeral, inconsequential. Not because you want to, but because you have to. A placeholder to avoid all the things you can no longer talk about, the things you are tip-toeing around, questions left unasked. I want to say “it’s me, it’s you, we can still talk.” But we can’t, really. There’s so much pain and hurt, so we avoid it all. No one is brave enough to bring up the heavy stuff.
We speak plainly and truthfully. Yet, nothing about the conversation feels honest, vulnerable, or real. Is this friendship going down the other side of the hill? Does this signify the beginning of the end?
