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.