My father used to make fun of me when I was in Kindergarten; He couldn't understand how a five year old could talk on the phone for hours with her best friend. One night, he decided that he must find out what we were talking about,so he picked up the phone. Apparently, she would call me every night to tell me about her day and I would repeatedly respond with "Why do you keep calling me?" Her name was Caroline.
At the time, and for many years after that, I couldn't understand the significance of friendship. I lived idly, appreciating the opportunities of escape that their company provided, but avoiding the intimacy. When my friends were sad, I tried to make them laugh, because I felt extremely uncomfortable seeing people cry. I remember a good friend of mine, confessing a horrid childhood experience, crying as she spoke, and all I could do was respond with a joke. I was unable to let myself be intimate with anyone.
Through the years, I met a couple of lovely friends, some who still remain close to me and others who are distant memories. The friends that remain close are ones that I love tremendously, yet I feel that this isn't enough. The concept of friendship dawned on me a year ago, when Harold Alexander Rocha asked me to be his girlfriend. He unintentionally taught me what it meant to be a friend. His expectations of friendship were simple: Just be on my side. At times, I have found relationships that seem more like a competition than team work, but it was different with Harold. He is ALWAYS supporting me and trying to understand me, even when I make absolutely NO sense. Consequentially, when I feel enraged with some of the decisions he makes, I calm down, breathe and try to understand him. This ability to understand someone has prepared me for a more meaningful friendship. Harold is closer to me than any friend could possibly be, but even Harold has his own Best friend, Bayardo.
I used to feel anger for the intimacy that he shared with his friend, and I couldn't understand why. I've come to the realization that I wasn't angry at their relationship; I was jealous. Someone, deep inside of me, craved a relationship like his with someone besides him. Once I realized this, I became very sad. The idea of being that close to someone, especially a girl, seemed unlikely. Previous relationships, especially after graduating from high school, were extremely superficial. Friends liked me because they thought I was pretty or smart (I don't know why), or both, but didn't try to understand me (And I hardly tried to understand them). Friends pretended to like me, when it was obvious that they really didn't. Friends wanted to drink, party or do drugs, and I do neither. Eventually, my taste for different extracurricular activities excluded me from these Friends. But this was not the only reason for my exclusion.
The biggest crime I have committed against friendship consists of my expectations. I wanted a friend who was smart and who could engage in a conversation about philosophy, science, music and so on. I wanted a friend who would rather go to a concert or play, then a basketball game. I wanted a friend who didn't drink or smoke. I wanted a friend around my age. I wanted a friend with similar interests. I wanted a friend who wasn't materialistic. I wanted a friend with a high moral conduct. AND the list goes on......Everytime I met a potential friend, I lay all my expectations of friendship on them, and was constantly disappointed. I was hunting for friends and shooting my own foot. Thankfully, I dropped the gun.
Now, that I am beginning to understand the act of understanding and diminishing my nasty expectations, Friends are coming to ME. My only wish is that I had Caroline's number.
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