A Reflection on Friendship
What it means to be a friend
Recently, I met a girl. I've been meeting lots of girls lately, the kind of thing that happens when you're a growing young male with emotional needs. Each connection a small lesson in who I am, who I want to be. But this girl? She's different. We started talking, and in a bid to keep the conversation flowing, we turned to a list called "The 36 Questions That Lead to Love." Supposedly, it's a set of cheeky prompts designed to deepen feelings between people - as if emotions could be engineered through a questionnaire.
We were having a great time, at least from my perspective, until we hit that question: What does friendship mean to you?
I couldn't answer.
I've been accused of many things in my life, but not knowing what friendship means? That felt like a punch to the brain. How could I not know? How could I be so disconnected from something so fundamental? It's like being asked to describe breathing and suddenly forgetting how your lungs work.
"Don't you have friends?" she asked, her voice carrying that peculiar mix of curiosity and judgment that makes you question your entire existence. Why do I still like this girl? Maybe it's because I desperately want our friendship to work. Maybe it's because she forced me to confront this void I've been carrying. Desperation is the mother of endurance, or at least a distant cousin.
It's funny, looking at your life from the outside, wonder how the hell you’ve managed to survive for this long. My social skills are outdated; my understanding of friendship feels like a relic from another time. The more I reflect, the more I realize the problem lies with me - not in my awkwardness, but in my fear of being truly known.
I've had friends, friends I would have gone to war with in medieval times, friends who would lie for me without hesitation. But where are they now? I drove them away. Each departure a self-fulfilling prophecy, each goodbye a confirmation of my worst fears about myself.
I hate writing about loss and loneliness because it feels like an admission of weakness. And I'm a man. Men can’t be weak, right?. But then I think of my friend who stood by me during a time of immense loss. She held me, told me she'd always have my back. And somehow, I drove her away too. I convinced myself I was giving too much to the friendship and she wasn't giving enough. But now I see she had already given me her all - I was just too blind to recognize the gift.
I think of my buddies from my days of religious fervor. We shared dreams, traded hope, prayed, laughed, and ate together. They were my rock. And I left. I ghosted them, stopped answering calls, stopped caring. Maybe, in my twisted logic, I saw friendships as stepping stones, means to an end. Once I reached that end, I discarded them. Where others saw love and connection, I saw opportunity. Each relationship a transaction, until the currency of trust ran dry.
But there is one friend I've never managed to lose. He's been with me through every phase, every mistake, every moment of selfishness. Stubborn as hell, he just wouldn't let go. He'd guilt-trip me into loving him if he had to. He gave all of himself and somehow found even more to give. He's in a category of his own. There are friends, there is family, and then there's that rare friend who becomes family. For me, that's MB.
When I think of friendship, I think of MB. He's the definition of it. Friendship isn't an abstract concept or some high-order emotion; it's a person. When MB laughs, it's the laugh of friendship. When MB cries, friendship cries. Friendship isn't just loyalty or trust or sacrifice. Friendship is MB - the mirror that shows me both who I am and who I could be.
This realization feels like a commitment. I've been told I have awkward social skills, though I'm also one of the funniest people alive (if you ask me). I laugh at my own jokes and say the weirdest things. But friendship doesn't judge. Friendship accepts you. It expects you to be weird, to be flawed. And it pushes you to grow because it invests so much in you that you can't help but become better. Each awkward moment a chance to be truly seen, each shared laugh a brick in the foundation of something real.
I've learned it's okay to have acquaintances, to be familiar with people without being their friend. You don't have to be everyone's confidant. But friendship? Friendship is your person. Friendship values your authenticity and cheers for your growth. It's the one who sees your darkness and stays anyway.
If you're going to be a friend, then be the best darn friend you can be. Because sometimes, the greatest gift we can give another person is the permission to be exactly who they are.
A note to my cherished readers:
Your presence here, reading my words and sharing in my journey, means more than I can express. Starting this week, I'm making a commitment to show up for you consistently – you'll find new posts every Wednesday and Sunday, rain or shine.
Wednesdays will greet you midweek with fresh perspectives, while Sundays will give you something to ponder as you start your new week. Think of it as our standing appointment.
For those of you who've been here since the beginning – köszönöm szépen1. Your support has given these words wings.
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Until next time, Saviour.
"Köszönöm szépen" (pronounced as "keu-seu-neum say-pen") means "thank you very much" in Hungarian