A friend called me today just to talk. That’s not something we do; we never just talk.
I told her that the only circumstances under which she actually calls me is if either her world is falling apart or something glorious has happened, to which she responded that that’s because I’m her guy friend. Men don’t do the inbetween stuff, they do big milestones. She stated, in fact, that men don’t even do the inbetween stuff for themselves, unless they’re sitting at a bar or playing ball with their boys. So she doesn’t call me for the inbetween, gossip stuff because I’m a guy.
Yet she’s calling me now.
Maybe the women in her world don’t understand. Maybe she remembered that I know what it feels like to lay on your mama’s couch with a degree that cost too much, that isn’t doing you a stitch of good, and that will only mean something once some time has passed. Maybe I’m the only person in her world that knows that exact feeling, the need skip forward in life a bit so that you can get back to your purpose.
Maybe she didn’t want to call a girlfriend who would inevitably ask about her failed engagement, about her failing job search, about her over-education, about her sick parents, or about the clear signs that her depression is more than a passing sadness and that it needs to be addressed. Maybe she didn’t want to give another soul a reason to snicker about her joblessness with five degrees. Maybe she remembers that she’s the one I called when all of these things were happening to me simultaneously, as they are now happening to her.
Or maybe her world is falling apart and I’m who she called because I’m that friend.
Whatever the circumstances, I’m honored I could be her friend tonight.