What makes a good friend?
This has been the core question of my ongoing podcast (read: freelance sociology project) “Friendless”. Lately, however, I’ve been re-examining the philosophy behind this question.
There are themes that come up almost every time - consistency, patience, availability, honesty, authenticity. Generally speaking it seems to come down to most people are looking for love and support to be communicated clearly and openly.
What makes a good friend? It’s a big question, I know, but when I try to boil it down it feels like it could be simpler than we make it. Something that sounds so radically easy yet in practice seems impossible for most people, myself included, to wrap their heads around.
Forgiveness.
And I don’t know if I know how to do it. At least not yet.
I used to see myself as an empathic person. I used to think I had a knack for taking in people’s problems and giving back thoughtful and useful advice. I used to think that, in understanding people’s nature, I could leave space for their fuck-ups and missteps to some benevolent end. I looked in the mirror and thought that made me a good friend. But the longer I stare at myself, the more I think I have it all wrong.
I’m not a good friend. I don’t call enough. I don’t invite people out, I barely go out as it is. I’m not the guy to check in, and I’m quick to give up on people no matter how long they’ve been in my life. And to my point - I don’t let things go, I don’t forget, and I don’t forgive. Maybe it’s my neurodivergence, maybe it’s my trauma, or maybe I’ve felt abandoned one too many times to remember I’m just as capable of hurting others the same way.
Maybe a good friend is someone who sees you for the complex and utter failure that you are. They see all the mistakes you’ve made, all the pain you’ve caused (either intentionally or incidentally), every single stupid thing you’ve done with this one wild and wonderful life that you’re squandering, and forgives you. They see through all the messiness of your life and love the human at the core.
Is there anyone among us, especially after the last three years, who isn’t deeply fucked up in some way? I don’t think I’m alone in feeling like I’m always one or two wrong sentences away from boiling over into a full scale meltdown. We’re carrying the sum of our experiences on our shoulders, not to mention the burden of shame and despair from all the generations that lead us here.
I think that it’s in all of our best interests to try and remember that whenever we decide to venture out beyond the relative safety of our living rooms and interact with the rest of the world.
I don’t have the answers yet, but rather have more questions: how do we let go of who we thought we were in service of becoming who we want to be? How do we stop lying to ourselves about our role in our own suffering? What do I need to let go of? Who do I need to forgive? And maybe the hardest of all - how do I start to forgive myself?
Fun & Safety sweeties!
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