When I moved to Ho Chi Minh City last year, my #1 concern/priority was making friends. This was an area of life where I had previously stumbled, and possibly one of the major reasons—if not the reason—behind several successive depressive episodes during my time at university in another foreign land.
I went about the process with intention, reaching out to individuals I felt I could connect with, initiating coffees, making dinner plans. And I have been unequivocally successful. I’ve made a few close friends, and several others I enjoy spending time with. I credited this outcome to my efforts. I was able to make good friends in Vietnam because I put in the time and attention friend-making demanded.
It was only recently that I came to see how incomplete this view was, how putting in all the time and attention in the world would amount to nothing if the other person didn’t reciprocate. It takes two to make a friendship—and now that I see it this way, I’m appreciating for the first time how miraculous the process of friend-making (and friend-keeping) is.
The many miracles of friendship
This shift in perspective was brought about by my recent experience in the realm of friend-making. In recent months, I’ve made the acquaintance not only of people who fully reciprocated my efforts, but also of those who took initiative and made the first move.
Most recently, a woman reached out on Instagram after seeing my story reshared by the gym I go to. An intermittent conversation ensued in my Instagram inbox which finally culminated in a coffee meet, where she was so genuine and open that I felt instantly at ease. As I sat listening to her animated stories, I couldn’t help but marvel at how miraculous it was that this person had reached out to a stranger (me) whose Instagram posts they felt were cool, and decided to share themselves so fully with this stranger (me again) they were meeting for the first time.
When you begin to see it in these terms, the process of friend-making is nothing short of miraculous:
You reach out to someone you’ve met once at a group dinner and exchanged a few sentences with, tentatively suggest a coffee or a brunch, and they say yes.
You have said coffee/brunch. Maybe you hit it off like a house on fire and conversation flows as if from a fire hydrant. Maybe you don’t feel that instant connection but the person is open and honest, and puts in their share of the effort to find topics to talk about.
You decide you enjoy this person’s company and would like to be their friend. And they feel the same way.
You send a message enthusiastically thanking them for their time, and they reply in kind with the same level of enthusiasm. They say, let’s do this again, and soon.
You organise another outing, maybe a dinner this time, and the person—now a new friend—is as open and honest as they were the first time. Conversation flows more easily. They remember details you’ve told them about yourself, ask you about work and your family.
They decide they want you to meet their significant other and invite you into their home. You bring your significant other and now we’re all friends.
You begin to really appreciate this person as a friend, and they feel the same way. Phrases like “I can’t wait for our dinner,” “I had a great time,” “Let’s catch up soon,” regularly drop into your inbox, as they drop into theirs.
You share more and more dinners, more moments of friendship and intimacy, until you finally consider this person a close friend. And they feel the same way about you.
I mean, isn’t this miraculous?
And the same goes for friend-keeping:
You message an old friend you haven’t seen for years, and instead of replying to your “How have you been?” with “I’m fine” and leaving it at that, they actually tell you how they have been. You end up hearing about their latest travails and they about yours.
You’re in town for a day and an old friend makes time to meet you for a long dinner no matter how busy they are.
It’s your birthday. You don’t broadcast this anywhere but your friend remembers and wishes you a happy birthday.
You meet your friend after months/years apart, and you pick up right where you left off. It’s as if you’ve never been away.
After years apart with little to no contact, your old friend still wants to spend their precious time with you and asks you to dinner when you’re in town.
Equally miraculous.
It takes two
The flip side of this, of course, is when the other person does not reciprocate. If you are a fairly self-confident person, this lack of reciprocity is easy to shrug off in a new friendship—this person doesn’t want to be my friend, move on.
But it’s never so easy—no matter how self-assured you are—when this happens with an old friend. You’ve been friends with this person for over a decade, and suddenly they stop reciprocating. They don’t respond to your messages, don’t invite you for dinners, show no interest in your life. You used to be so close, share all your most intimate thoughts, hopes, and dreams. And now, nothing.
When this happens, it’s not so easy to come to terms with.
One of the most popular newsletters I ever wrote was on defriending. And if you’ve read it, you’d be forgiven for thinking I have no trouble ending relationships that have inexplicably and suddenly fizzled out. This couldn’t be further from the truth.
I have had my share of struggles with old—formerly close—friendships coming to a sudden end, fought intense emotional battles as I tried to process why a friend I still felt so close to no longer felt the same way about me.
I still fear that one day the person I consider my closest friend would no longer consider me hers, that she would move on to other friendships and stop investing her time and attention in ours. There is absolutely no reason for me to think this, but the person is so important to me that my mind conjures this fear out of thin air.
In the end, though, it takes two to make a friendship. And—as difficult as it is to accept—if the other person isn’t in it anymore, there’s nothing you can do but also walk away.
The reciprocity of friendships is miraculous, and its ending heartbreaking. This is the truth we all face. All we can do is appreciate the miracles that are happening, and accept the heartbreaks that may result.
What do you think?
It also takes two to make this newsletter work, so let me know:
Do you find friendships miraculous? How do you cope when they end?
Send a reply, leave a comment, share this with a friend who’s a miracle in your life.
Until next Friday… Stay thoughtful,
Val
Photo by Andrea Tummons on Unsplash
Starting and maintaining friendships really is miraculous! Especially as we go through different stages in life. Last year, I moved back home to a city where I had a ton of friends. I assumed I'd be able to pick back up where I left off, but that wasn't the case, especially now that I was a mom. I try to remind myself that everything in life has seasons—even friendships—but it's hard!
I'm happy you found a good friend after moving to a new country. It's difficult and your efforts will be what I reference to in my mind to keep trying.
I think intention is so important but other factors like availability, stage of life, and similar life experiences plays a part in it too.
Part of why friendship is an area of my life I want to pursuit as well was mainly due to watching too much anime and wanting that Nakama feels.
And a gift and curse I have is to see the potential in the friendship but it doesn't reciprocate due to the many factors above.
Just like you mentioned in "defriending" it's causes so much anxiety when your wants and efforts doesn't turn into anything meaningful. And in terms of keeping a friend, knowing where you are in life is important. I found that sharing other areas in life where I found joy such as finding purpose in life career and finding love, could cause friction to my friends who doesn't have those yet.
So finding new people that can match those life circumstances could be better. Not hurting ourselves or others along the way.
And I think it's also about self-acceptance of our own expectations. My overly high optimism in friendships and finding the good in people led me to pain. But it also led me to realize, I only needed one best friend who is also my life partner. But still, keeping an energy or signal out for the opportunity to connect is something I always do.