Grown Up Realizations: What the Word "Friend" Means

I have understood for a while now that the term “friend” is used pretty casually to spare feelings. It’s much easier to introduce someone as “my friend…” instead of “my acquaintance….” The problem this creates, though, is not knowing what category you honestly fall under, and if the category is mutual. It’s incredibly awkward when you realize someone views you as a close friend, and you feel like you’re only acquaintances, and it can be devastating being in the vise versa situation. I’ve been in both, and I think I’m more empathetic toward the other person now, no matter the situation. I realize now that relationships build gradually, and sometimes one person feels a bond or chemistry that the other doesn’t. That’s more of a high school realization though. That’s not what this is about.

The realization I’ve had more recently is that over time, the definition to the word “friend” changes drastically. I realize that there’s exceptions to everything and everyone’s lives are different. The following is not generally speaking, it’s mostly personal definitions.

Elementary School: Thinking back, I had several “best friends” in elementary school. Who were these girls? The girls in my class that accepted the request to play with me. If I played games with them enough times in a row, they were a friend. If I played games with them consistently for a whole school year or more...BOOM! Best friends. Boys were not included, not at first anyway, because boys were weird.

We didn’t talk about anything in our personal lives. I couldn’t have told you ten facts about these girls. Meeting some of them again in high school was mostly nostalgic. Quickly we both realized by then that the friendship was based on nothing more than extended communication and meaningless elementary school games. But that’s ok, because that’s how friends were supposed to be for the most part.

In elementary school I developed a basic understanding of what good friends did and what bad friends did. Good friends played with me no matter what, even if they thought the game was stupid. Good friends shared their dessert and traded lunches. Bad friends ignored me when I talked to them. Bad friends ditched me for someone else.

Even in late elementary school, my definition had changed a little bit. I actually had conversations with the girls I knew. We mostly talked about boys though. Boys were included in the friend circle, even though they were still mostly weird in my opinion. I think I only included the ones that had crushes on me. I never noticed that before, but it’s totally true. If a boy called me pretty (either through a note or a mutual friend because no one ever did these things face to face) then I immediately started hanging out with them at recess. Who else did I talk about with the girls? By sixth grade, good friends let you rant about cute boys, and bad friends told the cute boys you were talking about them.

Middle school: Sometimes friends are grandfathered in from elementary school so the relationship can continue to grow. A lot aren’t.

My friends in middle school were the ones I had classes with and ate lunch with. They had to be as immature I was, or else they were boring to me. I don’t know about anyone else, but laughing became a very important part of my friendships during that time. If I couldn’t laugh with a person, they were not my friend. And I laughed a lot in middle school. I blushed a lot too, actually.

In middle school, the conversations were (slightly) less about boys and more about school and how much it sucked. We talked more about our unique interests. I didn’t have any. I was interested in whatever I thought would make me cool. We mostly talked about homework, and what we did on the weekends. The friendships back then meant a little bit more, because association outside of school was more common amongst students.

I learned more about good and bad friends. Good friends didn’t tell me I was blushing (I know I’m blushing!). Good friends saw past the incredibly ugly pink, sparkly coat that I wore to school every single day that was filthy because I didn’t know coats could be washed. Oh, boys were more included my friend circle. Good boy friends had to be cute or funny, to me. Otherwise I didn’t pay attention. Wasn’t I nice?

High school: This is when everything changed. Not for me, for everyone. Suddenly, good friends could become a lot closer since problems encountered in high school could potentially be quite serious and stressful. This is when the line between acquaintances and friends became much clearer. There were a lot of people I knew all throughout middle and high school that I never considered close friends. “School friends” is what I called them. Those were classmates that I had classes with and I liked being around and talking to, but I really knew nothing about. Actually knowing the person became important in high school. Common interests were important in order to have anything to talk about.

Conversations could be about almost anything. I stopped talking about boys because I didn’t date whilst in school, so there’d be no point. Boy talks were only to pressure girls to date the boy in the conversation. My conversations were mostly with boys by junior year, because I realized I was most myself talking with them. It was weird, actually, I had a hard time having real conversations with girls. I knew they were out there, I just couldn’t find very many. I think I can name three girls now that I could regularly have somewhat serious conversations with in high school. That means we didn’t talk about ourselves, or complain, or mention anything about clothes or makeup. Our conversations were past small talk.

The things I learned about good friends in high school were mostly things I had to learn personally, not traits my good school friends already had. But they’re still important. Good friends listened and gave advice when necessary. Good friends were the voice of reason, but only when needed. Good friends were honest, yet tactful. Bad friends spread rumors. Bad friends didn’t have anything good to say about anything I did. So, pretty much, high school was when I learned the basic definition of an adult friend. Someone who’s meant to stick around, not just someone I would hang out with during school hours.

Adulthood: This is the definition that probably takes almost an entire lifetime to figure out, because it’s impossible to describe with words.

I can’t put traits in this section, because I haven’t figured out yet. But these are the friends that stick “closer than a brother,” according to Proverbs. These are the friendships that take years to develop. I haven’t lived long enough to determine my definition. I do know, though, that a good friend in adulthood is supposed to go through bad times with me, or something like that. Conversations can be deeply personal, or even confidential, but also light hearted and funny. Close friends are supposed to see me vulnerable at some point. This must be why a lot of people consider their parents or their spouse as their closest friend. Parents and spouses see everything, but stick around. Parents are obligated to care for a child, but not to be friends with them, necessarily.

There are people in my life now that I feel very close to, so maybe these are the best friends that everyone talks about. But I can’t know that right now. I need to grow up more first.

Now, though, I understand why best friends are rare. Because sometimes no one sticks around. That’s sad to me, but it’s on a long list of things I can’t do anything about, so I try not to think about it.

I think the only reason I’m thinking deeply about this is because I went to a funeral today. It was huge and very crowded. Everyone there cared about the person that died, obviously. But I wonder how many of the people there he would have considered to be his very close friends. I wonder if he’d be surprised by how many people came.

Sometimes I think people forget how many friends they have, because sometimes you don’t know until you need one. Then again, though, is someone really a friend if they only show they care when you’re in distress? Is someone really a good friend if they only care after you’re gone?

I don’t know. There’s so many things I have yet to find out. It’s almost as if I have to wait for something bad to happen to me, and see who shows up. I hope to look back on this post in a couple decades and see if I’ve found the answer.

Grown Up Realizations: Lasting Impressions

Once upon a time, a girl was mean to me. I don’t remember how or why, and I retaliated because I didn’t know any better, but I only remember being a victim. This was in elementary school. When I think of this girl, all I can think of is how mean she was. That’s my lasting impression of her that will not go away unless we meet again, which we likely won’t. I’m sure that this girl is very mature now, considering that she’s an adult like me. I’m sure she’s not mean anymore. But I still have the lingering impression of her that has stayed with me from elementary school. People that were rude or arrogant because they were seven, are still rude and arrogant in my mind, even though they likely aren’t anymore. They left an impression of themselves in my brain, something that won’t diminish. It fades with time, but never disappears unless I completely forget the person or my impression has a reason to change.

If I see a person I went to elementary school with walking down the street that I didn’t like, negativity is all I can think of. Then, if I see a person that I went to elementary school with that I really did like, I’m excited and want to talk to them. I realize now that they probably have no idea who I am anymore, because the impression I have is only based off of something they did once many years ago that they no longer remember.

Maybe this is just a girl thing or something. Or maybe it’s just a “me” thing. All I know is, I never remember a physical person, I remember what I felt when I was around them and how they treated me and who I think that person is. I think that’s how everyone is...I desperately hope so. Actually, never mind. I desperately hope that I’m just the crazy one, because if I’m not then I’ve been unknowingly leaving first impressions in people’s mind that I have no way of knowing about or changing.

Making a good last impression used to be a big deal to me. Since I was friends with quite a few guys in high school, I usually had zero indication of what their lasting impression of me would be. That fact used to really bother me. I don’t know why, but I think it’s because I knew that I would remember the things they said and did for quite a while, and I didn’t want to be quickly forgotten. This had me believe that guys didn’t have lasting impressions of anybody, which I considered to be a wonderful thing. I felt like an emotional girl that had the desperate need to tell her guy friends that she was going to miss them, while very few of them returned the favor. It doesn’t bother me anymore though, because I know now that being friends with girls in high school is just as confusing in regards to last impressions. High school girls tell you what they think of you, but half the time they’re lying. They’re the ones that write “let’s hang out” in your yearbook, with no intention of doing so. So the girls that seemed to like me in high school don’t make eye contact now, and the girls that I barely talked to run up to me in the supermarket. Really, then, I’m left just as uninformed with the girl’s lasting impression of me as I am with the guy’s. Sometimes I wish that the girls that barely knew me would just do the “what’s up?” nod that I get from high school boys instead of faux enthusiasm that I have to reciprocate in order to be polite.

Considering I’ve heard men and women talk about the people that made positive lasting impressions, I think that high school boys simply didn’t want to get sentimental over high school ending, and high school girls thought they were supposed to get sentimental over high school ending. The truth was, both parties were going to remember certain people for the positive or negative impact they had on them.

However, I still wondered about the impressions that I was leaving behind. This was why yearbooks were a big deal to me. My signature was my lasting impression. It had to be a good one. Around spring break, I would plan out what I was going to say in everyone’s yearbook. It couldn’t just be my name and a smiley face. It had to represent me and how I would miss that person without getting too mushy or creepy. It had to be specific. I never said “let’s hang out” because I knew I wouldn’t be able to follow through (although I may be wrong. I don’t remember now).

Some friends were easy to write for, but others (usually the guys) were more difficult because I wanted to be meaningful without giving them the wrong idea. They thought I was weird when they read my signatures, but I hoped that down the line, it would bring back pleasant memories.

I also knew I’d be signing the yearbooks of people I barely knew or didn’t particularly care for. I determined who those people would be and what I would say without pretending we were amazing friends or being completely dismissive. So when someone asked me to sign their yearbook that I didn’t anticipate, it totally threw me off. Yeah, I’m the crazy one.

It’s funny now, because I have no idea what I said in anyone’s yearbook at this point. There are some that I think I was too meaningful in, and those where I was dismissive when I shouldn’t have been. I do remember the gist of what I was going to say in a couple yearbooks I never got to sign, because those were lasting impressions I never got to make. Now I’m stuck wondering, like most people I guess.

At the same time, though, do I really want to know? If I wasn’t ignorant, I’d probably just be disappointed. Sure, there may be a couple pleasant surprises, but that wouldn’t make up for all the people that have forgotten me. I mean, I can’t expect people to remember me for that long. I’m not memorable, most people aren’t. Close friends and role models are memorable, but people are just people.

This reminds me of a time during sophomore year, when I saw a guy outside of school who just looked at me and said, “Hey, I know you!” I had absolutely no idea who he was. We had no classes together. He said he recognized me from the hall. I found out later we had a mutual friend as well, but I still was surprised. This was before I had acquired my Portal hoodie (the usual reason why people at school would recognize me), so I didn’t know why he remembered me. I almost felt bad I didn’t recognize him, even though I shouldn’t have. I doubt that I left a lasting impression in this guy’s mind or anything, but it still makes the point that sometimes the impressions aren’t mutual, and that’s to be expected.

All that I can do, then, is hope to be remembered. However, I matured a lot in high school. Maybe I should hope to be forgotten, because the person I am now is a lot different than the person I was four years ago. And by “different” I mean “immature” and “annoying.” Most everyone else was the same in their freshman year though, so I guess that doesn’t matter much. I guess I shouldn’t hope for anything, because the first and last impression someone has of me is something I can’t change. It is the way it is.

I’ll probably just be remembered as that nerd who liked Portal and talked too much. Hey, that’s accurate enough for me!