One of my many social failings is that I don’t know how to tell when a friendship has reached its natural end. My head knows that people grow and change and won’t always be as close as they were that day in high school when you were both laughing so hard over … what was it, again?
My heart, dangerous little beast, just will not let go. Love me forever! Be my best friend forever! Don’t ever like anybody else better than me! Don’t have plans when I invite you over!
I assume that normal people don’t have this problem, because they trust their instincts guide them. “I sure would like to see Bob,” they’ll say. And then they’ll call up Bob and make plans. They’re not worried about calling Jane; if that were meant to be it would’ve been Jane they wanted to see.
Is that how it works?
See, because my instinct is to stay home and watch all 7 seasons of The Gilmore Girls for the 5th time, so in order to have any friends at all I have to work against myself from the start. Once I’m actually with people, I find that you all are quite lovely, and that I enjoy spending time out in the three-dimensional world.
Then I find someone who actually seems to like my company, and I feel like Chris Farley from Tommy Boy – so excited about actually having a sale (I mean, friend!) that I squeeze the life right out of the thing.
So then I have to battle against that instinct, in order to find the appropriate amount of distance. At which point, I’m just kind of tired, and that date with Lorelai and Rory and possibly an entire pan of brownies is starting to sound really darn good.
(I imagine you are all now checking your inboxes to see if you have any unanswered mail from me, and are seriously considering losing it. I understand.)