Can We Talk About Something?

I think one of the hardest things to realize as you get older is how many relationships only exist because you keep them alive.

You text first.

You check in.

You ask how they're doing.

You make the plans.

You ask if they want to grab something to eat.

You try again when plans fall through.

You give people grace because everybody has jobs, kids, relationships, responsibilities, and their own shit going on.

And you should give people grace.

But at what point does giving somebody grace turn into making excuses for them?

How many unanswered texts?

How many canceled plans where they never suggest another day?

How many weekends do you spend wondering if anybody is going to ask what you're doing?

How many times do you restart a conversation before you finally notice that if you don't create the interaction, there isn't one?

There isn't some magic number. But eventually, the pattern becomes the answer.

I've spent a lot of my life moving around, and one thing that teaches you very quickly is how much proximity can simulate a relationship.

You can talk to somebody every day at work and call them your friend. You can eat lunch together every day. You can laugh together, know what's happening in each other's lives, and genuinely care about each other.

Then somebody changes jobs.

And suddenly nobody calls.

Nobody makes plans.

Nobody checks in.

The relationship didn't necessarily disappear because somebody stopped caring. Sometimes you simply discovered how much of the relationship was being maintained by the fact that life kept putting you in the same room.

Take away the room and somebody has to choose.

Somebody has to think, I haven't talked to them lately.

Somebody has to pick up the phone.

Somebody has to say, What are you doing Saturday?

Somebody has to make room.

And yes, life is complicated. People get busy. People forget to reply. Plans fall apart. Adults have a million responsibilities.

I'm not talking about one unanswered text or one canceled Saturday.

I'm talking about patterns.

Because in the most general sense, people make room for the people they actually want in their lives.

Maybe not today. Maybe not this weekend. Maybe life genuinely kicks their ass for a while.

But eventually, wanting somebody around produces behavior.

That's the part I think people don't want to admit.

Somebody can care about you and still not make you a priority.

Somebody can genuinely miss you when they see you five years later while having had your phone number the entire five years.

Somebody can say, “We really need to hang out sometime,” every time they see you and never once actually make a plan.

And eventually you have to stop judging relationships entirely by what people say they feel and start looking at what they repeatedly do.

That's a hard fucking realization when you're the person who has always been willing to reach out first.

Because eventually you wonder what would happen if you stopped.

And sometimes you stop...

and your phone gets quiet.

That's a lonely fucking thing to experience.

It's especially hard on Friday night when nobody calls.

Saturday morning when nobody texts, “What are you doing today?”

Or some random evening when you're cooking dinner and you'd just like somebody to fucking talk to.

That's when you realize having people you know isn't necessarily the same thing as having people in your life.

I don't think the answer is to become bitter and stop reaching out to everybody. Friendship sometimes requires being the dumbass who texts first. People deserve patience. People deserve second chances. Relationships aren't supposed to be perfectly 50/50 every week.

But eventually there has to be another hand on the fucking thing.

Give people grace.

Reach out.

Make the plans.

Risk being disappointed.

Just don't spend years doing somebody else's half of the relationship because you're afraid of discovering what happens when you stop.

Sometimes stopping doesn't destroy the friendship.

Sometimes it shows you who had been keeping it alive.