Friends

For whatever reason, I’ve been thinking about friends a lot lately.  Or rather my lack thereof.  I guess everyone talking about “going to a friend’s party for the holidays” got me thinking.

But, truthfully — and I say this without a hint of sadness — I have very few friends.   At least how I think of friends.  Now acquaintances are not friends.  People seem to talk about them similarly, but I don’t think they’re the same.  Acquaintances I have a ton of.

No, my definition of a friend is simple: it’s someone I’d share a very personal matter with.  Like if I had a harmful addiction.  Or if I was having marital troubles.

And by that count, I have one friend outside my wife.  (It’s sappy, but Nancy is also my best friend.)

Now, when I was younger, I did have more than one friend.  Even then, maybe I maxed out at 5 at any one time.  Not a lot.

Again, I’m just noticing, not complaining.  Honestly, as a “friend” (and by that, I mean acquaintance) said to me: “Gary, you’re an acquired taste.”  I’m certain he’s right.  At age 54, though, I think I am who I am.

Guess that locks me in, then, at one friend.  And, you know, I’m okay with that.