I had a heartwarming experience with a new friend last night. This is someone I have only got to know recently online and am rather fond of because of the commonality of one of our life-defining experiences.
They texted me out of nowhere asking to be wished. ‘Wish me! It’s my birthday today.’
So, I did. I sent them a voice message with me singing Happy Birthday. And we chatted for a bit. About birthdays. And partying. And introverts faking to be extroverts. And drinking. And families. And children. And life. For about 10 minutes (yep, we covered all of it in that time). And then, we bid each other good night. That was that.
It got me thinking.
We used to do that when we were younger. Much younger. We used to be able to tell our friends exactly what we want and demand they give it to us. We could, and did, take our friends for granted. We could feel proprietary about them. In return, we think we owed them exactly the same. And of course promises of undying loyalty. For life.
Those were the times. Normally, we grow out of such juvenile concepts of love and friendship, loyalty and entitlement by the time we are 25. I am lucky that at 50, I still have friends who like to exercise this lovely right over me. I must have done something right.
