Musings

Several months ago, I finally gave up on a relationship that had spanned nearly 30 years. The signs had been there for a while that the friendship had waned (eg, she kept 2 separate, personal cell phones, but gave me the number to only one; she brushed off questions about various, general things), but, like many people, I ignored them, thinking that something that had lasted since my youth was worth keeping... because, honestly, once you leave school, it becomes much harder to find true friends, those who value you for yourself without thought or regard of gain. You treasure the friends who are there for you, no matter what. And, after all, I liked her mom, and my mom had said for years that Fran^* was her "other daughter."

During first 2 decades of our friendship, I received thoughtful letters and gifts from Fran -- nothing expensive or fancy, but warm and heartfelt -- which were particularly gratefully received during the very stressful periods of my education. I'm not sure that I reciprocated nearly as well, although I wrote long letters and notes, too. Just not as often. I was certainly very honest regarding the things going on in my life, and I thought Fran had been as well.

I was away at school when her father died of brain cancer and when my brother's best friend committed suicide. A family friend's father died from complication of Parkinson disease. Several of my other friends married, as did many of hers, and had children.

We met now and again, sometimes just briefly, others for lunch or dinner, and shared news: me with work stress, hopeful romantic leads, family news; she with work angst, her other friends' goings-on, and family drama.

Time went by. The letters got shorter and fewer, as we both lived our lives.

Several years ago, I decided I had to make an effort to set aside time to meet at least once a month or every 2 months with my closest friends, and for a while, I was successful. I had dinner meets every few months with some college friends, but Fran and I met nearly monthly. She was my oldest friend, after all, single, and lived pretty close to me. Still, it was 18 months ago, when I knew our get-togethers weren't working -- at least for me.

I've often wondered why she extended her friendship to me all those years ago. We'd discussed this many times, but I still don't know what she saw in me then. Our family backgrounds were different, as were our interests and hobbies. The few things we really had in common besides sarcasm and a fierce loyalty to friends was a love of reading... but she didn't know any of that when she first approached me.

I bring this up because I found myself pondering again and again the results of our get-togethers. We'd meet for dinner and try out new places. I let her make most of the decisions about where to dine, because she has a finicky stomach, whereas I eat pretty much anything. But our conversations, I realized, were not very even. It was about 7 years ago that I suspected she was seeing someone, but I figured if he was important to her, she'd let me know. But although she almost never talked about anything besides work and family and a few people we knew in common, she'd periodically dropped a few vague hints about more personal things. When I commented, she never elaborated.

It was on one of what turned out to be the last dinner we shared that I called her on it. And her response was unsatisfactory: after several years of hinting and practically daring me to pry, she then decided that she didn't wish to say anything, "because it's private."

Excuse me? Dating is private, especially when you've dated someone for over 1 year? Dating a few people over a period of years is private? For some silly reason, I thought dating is normal. If you can't tell your friends about the important people in your life, then clearly, our ideas of friendship are very different. But then, I'm sure other friends of hers were aware of her romantic life.

I'm not sure what she was thinking. When I recalled all the times she was disparaging and insulting about the guys I was interested in -- whether she knew them personally or not -- it just made her statement about privacy that much more ridiculous. Or perhaps I misunderstood her completely. Maybe she thought I might return the favor of caustic comments if she mentioned the men she'd been going out with at various times.

A very close friend of mine, who's met Fran once or twice many years ago, told me not to be so stubborn about cutting Fran out of my life. I didn't mention specifics about what caused the rift, only that I felt it was clear that Fran didn't regard me as a friend, after all; we were more like casual acquaintances, albeit of many years' duration. I likened it to knowing someone you've considered a friend since school and then suddenly finding out that not only have they been married for ages, but that they've also got grown children! Maybe even grandchildren!

I'm sure some will agree I'm being stubborn or perhaps prideful, and maybe they're right. I don't know for certain. However, I do know a sense of betrayal: I'd been spilling my guts, so to speak, for years, whereas she was just revealing glimpses, here and there of herself -- yet meanwhile talking freely and frankly about family and work matters.

I don't regret having known her. I think we've helped each other through some very difficult times, and we've shared a lot of laughs. Yet while it seems I was friend enough to know almost all the details of everyone else she cared to comment on, I was not friend enough to know her.


^* Not her real name.