Saturday, 6 March 2010


I had a good day today.
It was full of silliness, friends I haven't seen for too long, and people who are becoming friends.

There's a mass leaving-do tonight for the 7 people who've left our store in the last 3 weeks (see, what I mean by a lot leaving?!) but I'm not there. I could be, people asked and re-asked, and made flimsy bargains with me to go... I told them I'm not feeling sociable tonight.

Coming home now, I don't think that's quite true. I like to know who I'm spending my time with, and be with my friends properly, rather than turn up somewhere loud where people may or may not be arriving at some point during the night, where most will be drunk, and none can hear a word spoken. I don't want that.

But while it's all well and good being particular about how I socialise, I feel so alone right now. I don't want to be there tonight, I'm glad made the choice I did, I'm glad to be home, warm and quiet after a long day of work. This has just highlighted for me how many people who have played parts in my life for the last three years or so are evaporating, our paths were intertwined for a while, and now they're not. It's natural, it's the way things go... but do they all have to be getting on so well without me? Is it bad of me to be upset by that?

Maybe I'm from the wrong age of socialisation. In myyy day (read, "some time past/present/future/in my head"), to socialise, people would come over for tea, arrange to meet somewhere, whatever... There would be parties, yes, but there wasn't this whole "invite every person on facebook" mentality. I'm just sick of friends-by-default. The idea seems to be: you hang out with a crowd, eventually the crowd splits up, you find a new crowd, repeat ad nauseum. Obviously there are exceptions. But in general, why does it feel like everyone's scared to make an effort, or say, "Hey, I like you. Let's be friends.", but instead float around, then float away. Why can't people just have normal relationships? 

I guess I'm just around the wrong people. But then tell me please, where are the right people?

Bah. Humbug.

Okay, well, I've vented a little.

I'm going to go and bake up the last of my scone dough from last night. Scones, tea, and something good to watch should cheer me up. Thanks for listening, hehe. xxx


Lilly Rose Chen said...

Ya, I feel's hard to find really good friends. Friends that understand and trust. I think maybe because you are changing and the friends that you attracted from your "former" self now have moved on making room for you to attract friends that suits the person you are evolving into. Hey, it could be a great gift!

SillyBoy said...

I much prefer the company of a close and trusted friend, or a small group I feel comfortable with, rather than a big crowd of vague acquaintances. Crowds to me are a means to an end; when I hang out in one, I'm doing it in the hope of finding someone worth peeling away from the crowd and being friends with.

It doesn't often work. Many times there's just no-one there who I click with. Sometimes the venue is so noisy and crowded that it's impossible to hold a conversation. Now and again, most frustratingly, I have a really great time sitting in a corner chatting away with someone, and it seems like we get on really well... and then whatever enthusiasm they had for me seemingly evaporates overnight.

But sometimes it does work out, and I treasure those beginnings: An acquaintance of long standing turns up at the pub looking like she's having the mother of all crappy days, I offer a shoulder to cry on, and suddenly we matter to each other. Or, as a roomful of people get up and leave, I invite one to stick around and have a drink, and four years later I'm writing overlong comments about it in her blog.

Maybe some people prefer quantity over quality. Maybe some people like being surrounded by a big crowd of insignificant others. Maybe some people like being in painfully loud rooms full of drunks for the sake of it. Maybe some people see friendship as an easy-come, easy-go sort of thing.

I'm not one of those.

Facebook annoys me for the way it turns friendship into a commodity. To me, a true friendship is exciting, magical, unique and very personal. On Facebook, friendship is a numbers game, clicking on every name or face that you vaguely recognise. People are herded into one enormous crowd where every word and trivial action is shouted across the room. All of which is exactly what I'm not looking for.

I resist, of course. At the time of writing, I have sixteen Facebook friends - a number so low that the site is constantly badgering me to add more - and every last one is someone whose company I have enjoyed in real life.

I can't tell you where the right people are. It's not a matter of national security; I just don't know. They can be hard to find, and sometimes - alas - they don't stay right for ever. But they are out there.