You Gotta Have Friends...

So I'm up in the Twin Cities at my dad's house and I had the chance to meet up with my old friend Kevin on Wednesday night. As usual, I spent a good part of the evening trying to keep up with all of his questions…it can be kind of like a firing squad! Throughout the course of the evening Kevin posed questions like, “Where do you see yourself in 3 years?” and “Have you ever seen a real act of violence?” and “Can you really express yourself in French?” “Who are your real friends?” and “What is the coolest US city?” Sheesh!

The question about ‘real friends’ kinda stuck with me and I’ve been thinking about it today. What does that mean? Who is a ‘real’ friend? I’ve also been mulling over something else he said about how maybe we have a little window of openness and it happens when we are in our early 20s and then as time passes we become more and more closed, it becomes harder to connect with people, we become less willing (able?) to adapt to others. Most of the people I consider my ‘real’ and ‘best’ friends are in fact people I met in my early 20s, while I was in college. Why is that? Kevin asked if maybe those people feel like my ‘real’ friends because I have a history with them…and I suppose there is something to that, but I really believe that it’s something more. I don’t have any really, really close friends from high school…why not? If history was all it took, then I have that with them. Why aren’t we close? Maybe there is something to this idea of ‘openness’…maybe in our early 20s we are all very malleable, and since none of us have very clear ideas of who we are or where we are headed, maybe we are ready to embrace each other and figure it out together.

I don’t like the idea that I might be ‘closing’ with age. I don’t like the idea that maybe there was a little window of opportunity to make my ‘real’ friends and that it came and went in my early 20s. But maybe there’s some truth to that? Maybe with each passing year we get a little bit more set in our ways, and a little bit more comfortable in our routines and maybe it just gets harder and harder to give someone new a chance.

Living abroad puts another interesting spin on the whole post-college social life. In the beginning, I couldn’t speak the language and I made friends with other English speakers. I made friends with people who maybe weren’t ‘my type’… people who I probably never would have made friends with in college. Sometimes it didn’t really work out and we both knew that we were just hanging out together because the pickings were pretty slim. Other times I’ve been really surprised…someone who seems kind of shy and mousey can turn out to be so witty and fun, someone who seems really abrasive and stuck up, can turn out to be smart, funny and generous, and so on. The circumstances of living abroad have challenged me to think and rethink my opinions of people, to give people first and second and third chances, and to maintain a kind of ‘openness.’ I’ve made some really good friends and met some really interesting people, almost in spite of myself.

If being friends has something to do with having a ‘history’ together, then I think it must have a lot more to do with WHAT you share in that time rather than how much time you share. My friends who were with me in college were with me during my metamorphosis between childhood and adulthood. They were with me when I realized I wanted to be an actor. They were with me when I first went to live outside of the US. They were with me when I fell in love and when I had my heart broken. I think that no matter where I live and no matter where I go, no one could replace those friends because of what we shared. We shared “college” and 18 to 22 and Iowa City. Those first years of freedom are so intoxicating…it’s a pretty thrilling emotional/social rollercoaster ride. Going through that with someone brings you closer together.

I’ve shared something else with the friends I’ve made in Paris. With my American friends I’ve shared the experience of being on the outside and slowly trying to break in and understand a different language, culture, world. We’ve shared being poor. We’ve shared the questions, disbelief, pride, confusion and sometimes even guilt trips from friends and family back in the US. We’ve shared the beauty of Paris, the enchantment of the city, the depressing grey winters, the little battles and victories revolving around visas and paperwork and navigating French administration.

Making French friends isn’t easy. Of course, people were always nice to me…but to make real friends across a language barrier is pretty hard. People can include you and invite you along…but it takes a lot to get over being the ‘cute little foreigner who says cute little things in her cute little accent.’ But those lingual and cultural barriers are definitely not insurmountable…and there are even situations where it isn’t a question of breaking down barriers because there is a connection that is bigger and more important than language and culture. Bruno has become one of my best friends and he loves me, accepts me and understands me, language and culture aside.

It’s time for me to head to bed, now, and I still have all of these thoughts swirling around inside my head. I’m not sure if when we are younger we are more open and therefore better at making friends and if it gets harder with age. I think friendships are as valuable as the moments you have shared together. Friendships are what you make of them. As I drift off to sleep, one thing is clear: I feel very lucky to have quite a few people I can call ‘real’ friends.