Game. Set. Match. ©
“Conversation is like a tennis match,” my mother said. “You hit the ball to your partner and they hit it back. If someone hogs the ball it’s rude and the game is boring.”
The mothers of my adolescent group of friends used this analogy frequently when advising us on how to be engaging young ladies. We laugh about it today, but it still stands true.
Two summers ago, I was in a “me” place. I was worried about my future in New York City and my long distance engagement. I didn’t seem to have any room for anyone else, but of course I didn’t think about it that way at the time. I just focused on my own problems, obsessions, and neurosis.When I went back to New York City, I needed a place to stay for a few days before my apartment became available. My friend Pam had offered to let me to stay with her when I first got there because she had moved there a few months prior and we hadn’t seen each other in a while. I had gone to school there and was used to it but she was still adjusting. However, when I got there I found that there was an odd silence between us as we rode in the cab to her place.
It was so palpable that I finally asked what was wrong.
“You realize you haven’t asked once about me, right? How I’m doing? What I’m doing?”
My heart dropped into my stomach. I opened my mouth to protest but I couldn’t. When I really thought about it, I hadn’t inquired after her in atleast a month. “I’m sorry,” I stammered shamefully.
“It’s ok. I’m just… You know that’s not cool right?”
My mothers words from so long ago echoed in my head. “No. I mean yes. That’s not cool. I’m sorry. I didn’t realize. I’ve just been so crazed… and yeah, a little selfish. Just nerves and stuff.”
Pam looked out the window of the cab. She seemed so distant. She’s been the closest thing I’ve ever had to a sister and I couldn’t believe that I had hurt her so thoroughly, not to mention the fact that I had been so self involved I hadn’t seen this coming. She had called and asked after me, listening carefully to every development, every description of a fight with my boyfriend. Why hadn’t I asked about life in New York and her new job? “But you know you did that, right? You’re not just oblivious? I didn’t think you were like that.”
“I’m not like that.” I ventured. “I mean, I don’t doubt that I was.” I felt myself tearing up as we arrived at her apartment in Brooklyn. I was so utterly embarrassed. We trundled up the stairs and entered her studio. “I just had a lot on my mind. I didn’t mean to hurt you.”
“I know.” She offered me some water and we sat down at the dining room table. “I would ask about how you were and you would go on and on. You didn’t even ask about me. I just couldn’t believe it. I needed you.”
“I’m sorry,” I repeated, rather at a loss when considering what to say. I knew immediately that I had done a bad thing as soon as she brought it to my attention.
I mention this story, because Pam is still my best friend and my “sister.” We managed to get past all of this and now things are back to normal. She’s the person I turn to when I’m upset and I try to be there for her in that same way. Because of what happened between us, I am especially aware of conversation and my active investment in my friends, but I am also aware of when my investment in my friends is being abused as I had abused her.
I’m lucky to have a friend with so much history because if we hadn’t, she might not have seen any reason to invest any more time in the relationship.
Living in New York, you come into contact with a lot of people; you network, you meet people at your job, you bump into acquaintances on the subway. There are so many people that walk in and out of your awareness each day that it can be hard to keep track of them. You have to make a concerted effort to make time for the people who really matter and it is important that you choose those people wisely.
I been thinking recently about how difficult it is to make time for all of my friends and because of that, I’m developing very intense feelings about the people in my life who truly know what the two-way-street of friendship means, and those who take me for granted. I don’t have time for those people, especially in situations where I have so little time to waste. Perhaps it’s harsh, but it’s true.
My advice: When it becomes clear that someone calls only to talk about themselves and their problems, move on. When they treat you like you’re around to listen their problems but never want to hear out your possible solutions, tell them to take a hike. Tell them to find a therapist or a mirror and do their thing.
Focus on friends who seek your counsel and work towards results. Seek out the friends that notice when you’re not yourself. Save your time for the people who enter your life and both of you are changed forever by your companionship. Those are the people who are worth your time.
