A (really) scattered note on friends

          In 1996, I sat across from Madison Daub in Ms. Ritchie’s morning kindergarten class.  My mom had ironed my brown and white plaid jumper that morning, just as she did for my sisters each year on the first day of school.  I had my new Esmeralda backpack (The Hunchback of Notre Dame had come out that summer, and I became morbidly obsessed with being a gypsy; I made numerous tambourines with bags of beans and two paper plates taped together, and tied scarves around my waist as I shimmied to the dinner table) and a pack of fresh Crayolas—the 64 pack, because 12 and 24 were for chumps.  As the end of the first day of class neared, I reflected deeply on the past 3 and a half hours spent coloring my nametag, filling out my home information (I had trouble with my Es and 3s, so thank god they’re on the same phone key, and as for my name, well, J3ssica would do for now) and awkwardly making my first impression on kids I would spend the next 9 years with.  We were about to line up at the door when I looked at Madison, who I hadn’t said a word to all day, but because of proximity, I felt it was only logical to ask; “will you be my best friend?”

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I’ve been through a few best friends since Madison Daub, and I’ve learned that while I would love for the words, “will you be my best friend,” to be a binding contract to ensure that each party perform all duties and responsibilities of a best friend, and all those failing to adhere to the Rule Book of Best Friends would be smote by the Friend Gods and put on a probationary period wherein they cannot pursue any new friendships and can definitely not be included on any trips to get coffee and/or froyo, the process is a bit more complicated.

I have always had a theory about friends:

“Can you do me a favor?”

I like to consider myself the queen of can-you-do-me-a-favor.  I should probably have a weekly quota.  I always find myself forgetting something or waiting until the last minute, which usually means waiting until it’s too late, in my case.  It’s something I’ve tried working on, but now I’ve just accepted it as an annoying quirk that I try to play off as endearing (I’ve learned this can work if I usually include a smiley face after everything I say).  

I typically gauge the seriousness of my friendships based on that question.  The friends that answer, “what do you need? I’ll see what I can do,” may be worth it.  But the friends who answer, “yeah, girl.  Wait—do I have to put pants on?” are the ones you cling to.

It seems like an idiotic way to evaluate the company you surround yourself with, but let me explain:  the deepest friendships are those punctuated with the mutual and unadulterated desire to give, no matter the circumstances—even if they are unknown.  And through the years that I’ve been socially cognizant, I’ve had to learn the hard way that these type of friends don’t come easily.  But I’ve also stumbled upon a handful of people who would drop everything and put on pants if I’m ever in need.  No romantic relationship could ever put a dent in the solid friendships I have now, and I’ll be the first to say, I’m down to ride ‘til I die for my bad bitches.

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                This may seem like unsolicited advice, but I’ve been doing some soul-searching lately (that’s what people call it, right? Soul-searching? When you find out all this deep stuff about yourself that only surfaces during a transitional or traumatic period, oh, like say, I don’t know, uprooting your life and moving 16 hours away from your family and establishing yourself in a new city where you’ll be living alone and drowning in student loans), and I’ve come to understand that I would fight for friendships like the ones I have, and this is why:

Honesty. Every relationship needs it.  Whether it’s brutal honesty, or fessing up to something you’ve done, mutual honesty is a must.  You don’t like this new guy your girl starts seeing? Tell her.   If your girl has food in her teeth, pick it out.  Offer some floss.  That’s what friends are for.  Maybe white isn’t her color.  Don’t you dare let her go out looking like a polar bear.  Friends talk openly about EVERYTHING.  Be there to revel in the fact that you are sharing the most visceral part of life with someone: the honest goddamn truth.

Reliability.  Friends are there in a time of need.  They drive in from an hour away to bring you wine and good company when some asshole breaks your heart.  They pick you up when your piece of shit car breaks down and you’re left cursing on the shoulder of I-65.  You tell a friend you’ll be there for her big show? You show up 20 minutes early and sit in the front row.  With a bouquet of fucking flowers.  That’s a badass friend.

Camaraderie.  You just like being around each other.  You could be sitting at a crowded bar or miserably sweating your asses off at the gym at that spin class you both regret signing up for or sharing a blanket and Ben & Jerry’s while you cry over every Ryan Reynolds movie ever made, and it’s still the highlight of your week.  Phone calls turn into hour-long gossip sessions wherein you discuss everything from how much you hate your job to how much you love your new Michael Kors bag that you worked overtime at that god-awful job to scrounge up the funds for.

Give and take.  A friendship is an exchange, not a transaction. It’s not one-sided, and most of the time, it’s selfless.  The constant need to keep giving, not asking anything in return, but knowing damn well that your back is covered.  Listening and offering advice.  Knowing when to talk and when to shut up (believe me, this one has been hard for me to master).  It’s sending stupid cards for no reason, and unsolicitedly complimenting her new profile picture that makes her boobs look like they could rival ScarJo’s and liking all of her Instagrams, even if every single one is of her on the toilet or of her dog (whoops….).

Shameless tomfoolery.  You know you’ve found good friends when you can’t keep yourself out of trouble.  Like crashing a college party at a bar that clearly you were not invited to, or lying about your birthday to get free drinks.  Fulfilling friendships are thrilling, because there’s a level of trust in knowing that if you fuck up, you’re never alone.  You’re in this shit together, so you may as well live it up.

Compassion and understanding.  You feel what your friends feel.  Excitement for a new job or a raise.  Cautious and protective when pursuing a new relationship.  Sadness when things don’t work out the way we wanted them to.  You cry with them and laugh with them, and say the same thing at the same time so often that it’s scary.  You understand the subtleties of a look and speak without words; like the “get this creep away from me” glare, or “what the fuck is she wearing” gaze.

Love.  This by far is what I’ve learned holds friendships together.  It is unconditional.  There is no mileage, no lapse of time, and no life-altering event that can change this.  You could talk every day, or once a week, but everything you have is still there.  You know and understand all the reasons why you’re friends, and you’re thankful every day. 

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                I'm going to be asking for favors for the rest of my life.  For all my friends out there: get ready to put your pants on and help a sister out.