It reminded me of one night when a good friend, in a fit of loneliness in a city she was trying to navigate on her own, sent me a text message asking, “How do you make friends?”
That was a really hard one. I didn’t know what to say. I was only too familiar with her dilemma.
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| "How you doin?" |
Little kids appear to have it figured out. They see another kid and ask what they’re doing. Next thing you know, they’re playing together like they’ve known each other all their lives. For us adults, it can be a little bit more complicated. I couldn’t help noticing how I’m racking up more acquaintances than friends (who would stick around for years armed with the complete knowledge of all my drama and quirks). There seem to be more nuances when you’re already “grown up.”
In my first job, I was lucky to find a group of people who were cool nerds (or so we claim) like myself. We could spend an entire afternoon talking about Excel codes, teased each other relentlessly, and really had each other’s backs (woe be to anyone who bullies anyone in our team). We served as each other’s personal cheerleaders at work and got pretty close. I had a lot of good times with them inside and outside of work. Still, at the end of the day, we were officemates.
Very few get past the invisible wall that separates personal life and work life. Work is work. Up to some extent, we all have to perform according to a set of standards especially since we are mostly young people trying to get a strong foothold in our careers. Same thing for doctors in hospitals, I suppose, who have to be the paragons of reliability for their patients; professors whose credibility have to be high; and entrepreneurs whose businesses run through their leadership.
Then there are those times when you’re at a party or night out surrounded by new and semi-new people, and you go home feeling like a total stranger though you’ve spent hours with them. So when you get that Facebook invite, you hover between “Confirm” and “Not Now” for quite some time. It makes you wonder when was the last time you had a real conversation with someone?
Being with my friend that Sunday afternoon emphasised that to survive and maneuver through daily life, we have to put up filters. Not to deliberately hide who we are, but they’re simply part of the whole situation.
To me, filters are not necessarily bad, but they can be tiring — an exhaustion that you often don’t feel till you find yourself in the company of people who bring them down. Once you’ve had a taste of their society, you tend to wander around looking for these souls who can take whatever you dish out (note: this does not give you the license to be a jerk) and not for a few hours, but for a good long while.
If only it was easy. Some just don’t make the cut or you don’t make their cut. And then there is the too common reality with “newfound people” in which the relationship is short-lived, driven mainly by the excitement of a new acquaintance, the curiosity for an unexplored character, the novelty of a new love. When the newness is over, so is the relationship.
So, as my friend said, how do you make friends?
I think two things usually make armours fall away: honesty and sincerity.
I know, it sounds so cheesy and trite. But what can I say? There is something about someone who is honest enough to tell you things so raw and real. There is something about someone who is indisputably sincere that when you are asked a question, you feel its authenticity — like who you are is being drawn out, not to be judged but to be known intimately. When faced with the eagerness to tell and hear the good, the ugly and the downright weird stories, opening up is hard to resist.
However, it’s extremely risky, isn't it? Why else do we have filters? Why else can’t I walk up to anybody and say, “Here I am! I’m letting it all hang loose!” It takes guts to be candid. And, let’s face it, not everyone is ready for you.
It's a risk and we all stand to get it wrong -- a cliche that resounds in songs, movies, books, and our very own experiences. But the cliche also says that it’s a gamble that pays off massively because once you establish that truthfulness, it makes relationships last whether or not you see and speak to each other very often. Once you get it, it will make you feel alive.
I missed a lot before I finally stumbled upon those who did get it. I still miss a lot, hence my own fits of loneliness. But the victories I’ve had sustain me. My friends now transcend various circumstances, places, time and stereotypes. They are genuine and open, allowing them to bypass all the filters, making them such good friends that whatever I show them simply becomes part of what makes me me. With them, I can be my unbridled self. They make me feel that sharing this whole ride with me is an honor. Best of all, they are the ones who constantly remind me of who I am without imposing who they think I should be. Everyday, I am beyond grateful for them and I hope I am able to return the favor somehow.
So though I hit dead ends, I still try, while holding on to three things: one, people sense phoney, so stick to the real stuff — without being a jerk — and they can take it or leave it; two, if they’re phoney, too self-absorbed or force me to be phoney, maybe they’re not for keeps; and three: give people a chance and be patient with them because, sometimes, that's what it takes.
To every one of us, happy hunting.
In my first job, I was lucky to find a group of people who were cool nerds (or so we claim) like myself. We could spend an entire afternoon talking about Excel codes, teased each other relentlessly, and really had each other’s backs (woe be to anyone who bullies anyone in our team). We served as each other’s personal cheerleaders at work and got pretty close. I had a lot of good times with them inside and outside of work. Still, at the end of the day, we were officemates.
Very few get past the invisible wall that separates personal life and work life. Work is work. Up to some extent, we all have to perform according to a set of standards especially since we are mostly young people trying to get a strong foothold in our careers. Same thing for doctors in hospitals, I suppose, who have to be the paragons of reliability for their patients; professors whose credibility have to be high; and entrepreneurs whose businesses run through their leadership.
Then there are those times when you’re at a party or night out surrounded by new and semi-new people, and you go home feeling like a total stranger though you’ve spent hours with them. So when you get that Facebook invite, you hover between “Confirm” and “Not Now” for quite some time. It makes you wonder when was the last time you had a real conversation with someone?
Being with my friend that Sunday afternoon emphasised that to survive and maneuver through daily life, we have to put up filters. Not to deliberately hide who we are, but they’re simply part of the whole situation.
To me, filters are not necessarily bad, but they can be tiring — an exhaustion that you often don’t feel till you find yourself in the company of people who bring them down. Once you’ve had a taste of their society, you tend to wander around looking for these souls who can take whatever you dish out (note: this does not give you the license to be a jerk) and not for a few hours, but for a good long while.
If only it was easy. Some just don’t make the cut or you don’t make their cut. And then there is the too common reality with “newfound people” in which the relationship is short-lived, driven mainly by the excitement of a new acquaintance, the curiosity for an unexplored character, the novelty of a new love. When the newness is over, so is the relationship.
So, as my friend said, how do you make friends?
I think two things usually make armours fall away: honesty and sincerity.
I know, it sounds so cheesy and trite. But what can I say? There is something about someone who is honest enough to tell you things so raw and real. There is something about someone who is indisputably sincere that when you are asked a question, you feel its authenticity — like who you are is being drawn out, not to be judged but to be known intimately. When faced with the eagerness to tell and hear the good, the ugly and the downright weird stories, opening up is hard to resist.
However, it’s extremely risky, isn't it? Why else do we have filters? Why else can’t I walk up to anybody and say, “Here I am! I’m letting it all hang loose!” It takes guts to be candid. And, let’s face it, not everyone is ready for you.
It's a risk and we all stand to get it wrong -- a cliche that resounds in songs, movies, books, and our very own experiences. But the cliche also says that it’s a gamble that pays off massively because once you establish that truthfulness, it makes relationships last whether or not you see and speak to each other very often. Once you get it, it will make you feel alive.
I missed a lot before I finally stumbled upon those who did get it. I still miss a lot, hence my own fits of loneliness. But the victories I’ve had sustain me. My friends now transcend various circumstances, places, time and stereotypes. They are genuine and open, allowing them to bypass all the filters, making them such good friends that whatever I show them simply becomes part of what makes me me. With them, I can be my unbridled self. They make me feel that sharing this whole ride with me is an honor. Best of all, they are the ones who constantly remind me of who I am without imposing who they think I should be. Everyday, I am beyond grateful for them and I hope I am able to return the favor somehow.
So though I hit dead ends, I still try, while holding on to three things: one, people sense phoney, so stick to the real stuff — without being a jerk — and they can take it or leave it; two, if they’re phoney, too self-absorbed or force me to be phoney, maybe they’re not for keeps; and three: give people a chance and be patient with them because, sometimes, that's what it takes.
To every one of us, happy hunting.
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