I remember in my twenties all our relationship problems centred around men. Who was dating whom, who fancied you, who had the most useless dysfunctional excuse of a boyfriend.
Then in my thirties it turned into endless discussions and problems with and about friends. Whether because of age or the stage we’re all at in life, I don’t know but there seems to be a never ending stream of drama and angst coming from that source. Old friends, work friends, pals and mates….
Our friends groups have split into two camps – those who are settled in life and happy and those who aren’t.
Now I don’t mean those who are married versus those who are single. In fact more than half the first group is made up of single friends, who are happy and have found a good place in life, who may not have a partner but who are living successful lives, full lives. In the second group are a lot of married friends who are unhappy, dissatisfied and generally pissed off with the choices they’ve made.
But those who are happy overall are running out of patience with the drama and angst and whinging of those who aren’t and those who aren’t constantly accuse those who are of being smug and unsympathetic.
Many of the “problems” everyone seems to be fighting about aren’t problems at all they’re just silly things people have chosen to be insulted / offended by. And then there’s the recurring patterns – if you’re on your umpteenth bad relationship with a shallow vacuous man who is vain and selfish then no one really wants to give out the same tired advice yet again for you to ignore again.
Or friends engineering reasons to be upset with the rest of us, possibly out of self pity and possibly because they are as mad as a bag of snakes. One friend claims that no one will come and do the things she likes to do or if they do turn up, they moan and it spoils it for her. Sounds like a reasonable complaint? Sure – except what she fails to realize is that in fact she bullies friends into going: if they demur for any reason she tells them that they are no longer her friends as they have nothing in common any more. When the emotional blackmail works and they drop everything to attend, she then spends the evening pointing at them and saying “Oh, I can tell you’re not enjoying it. Oh look at so-and-so, they’re just dying to say this is crap.” And then she goes home convinced that her friends attended reluctantly and called the evening crap.
It’s not just female friends either although they do provide some of the more tortuous and spectacular examples. It seems to be age rather than gender related; or maybe it’s just the fallout of having known one another a long time.
One thing I notice, although I daren’t say it for fear of losing a limb to the outrage, is that the unhappy among us are those who are trying to live the same lifestyle that we all shared in our twenties. Whether attached or single, they want to party and they still seek their excitement in the social scene. Those who are content, seek their thrills with their partner, or in their achievements, or in a mixture of the good things in life; from one end of the month to another they may not go drinking, or dancing although when they do they enjoy it.
One friend cannot turn up to meet us without being drunk. While this would have gone unremarked ten years ago, when you’re forty it seems a little odd. And the tolerance for bullshit we had ten years ago – including the drunken ramblings of mates – has decreased tenfold in that period.
And then there’s the mate who has always been excused by the words “Ah that’s just So-and-so.” You can’t take offence, call them out on anything, contradict them, or disapprove of them – they very early on established a reputation for being “mad” or “daft” or “so brutally honest you want to hit them over the head with a half brick.” And over the years you’ve bitten your tongue, swallowed hard and smiled through gritted teeth as everyone told you how you couldn’t mind them, sure that’s just the way they are.
Now as you hit forty, the same people ring you up to rant about their latest faux pas and how impossible they are and how they ruin everything and can be taken nowhere. (Smile as you drawl “ah go on, sure that’s just the way they are.” You’ve earned it.)
I wonder in ten years time if we’ll all be friends, or even friendly – I know for me the desire to be around a lot of old friends has decreased, and while this may sound strange I choose to see even less of them than I’d like because if I see much more of them I’ll end up hating the sight of them. I think discretion is definitely the better part of valour in this case; I hope if we confine 0ur interaction to the most superficial layers of friendliness at some point in the future we’ll have more in common again and will not have spoiled it all with a row.
Friends are a pain in the arse sometimes.
