"we are the people in the world to whom we tell things"
an ode to the friendships that kept me going
“Ruth said, 'Remember how we said we are the people in the world to whom we tell things. And that's us. Something happens and I think, I'll tell the next ladies' lunch. '”
If you haven’t heard of it, Lore Segal’s Ladies’ Lunch stories centers a group of nonagenarians who meet up every week to eat and talk about their lives with each other. They are a series of charming stories, written by Lore when she herself was in her 90s, that paint the picture of a friendship that provides comfort even in their twilight years. That type of friendship, the kind that only forms when you’ve seen each other grow up and grow old, is such a beautiful thing. Reading it made me reflect on my own friendships throughout the years.
A couple of months ago, I crashed at one of my friends’ flat and we got to talking about life updates, as you do when you haven’t seen each other for a while. I told her this funny story about a close friend telling another friend of ours that I was hesitant to meet up and ask for a favor (basically, crashing at their place as well) because I thought we weren’t that close. He was a bit taken aback because we’ve known each other for more than 10 years, and he thought we were close. The friend whose flat I was staying at laughed and agreed, saying that, yeah, she thought he and I were pretty close too. That encounter was another stark reminder of how much I, more often than not, sell my relationships short.
Through the years, I’ve come to realize that I have this unconscious tendency to “other” myself, especially in groups. It was a self-preservation tactic I’ve become dangerously comfortable with, to prevent instances of humiliating myself (admittedly, one of my biggest ‘fears’ due to my social anxiety) by overstepping my boundaries. I always assume that in a friend group, I’ll be the one who gets picked last, that no one would actually want to hang out with just me. There’s a weird part of me that finds it really hard to acknowledge that people consider me a close friend. Because of this, I’ve always thought I don’t have many. But it wasn’t until I met someone whose circle is significantly smaller than mine and had that pointed out directly that I realized how utterly inaccurate my estimation of my friend circle was.
There is the friend group that I’ve perhaps known the longest, going on almost 20 years now. Some of them I’ve known even longer, having been occasional co-competitors in inter-school quiz bees and such—until high school eventually tied our lives together. They’ve witnessed me growing up through the years, and some of them have even been my college roommates. We’ve been through a lot of firsts and milestones together: heartbreaks, degrees, family deaths, births, marriages—it’s been quite a journey. And though we don’t talk every day or share every little detail of our lives all the time, they are still among the people I would want to share important life news with first.
The group of people I met in my first job—my first foray into adult life. Our hiring partner told us that we should treasure and remember our batchmates, as more often than not, they will be our lifelong friends and will have a significant impact on our lives. He couldn’t have been more right. These are people who are part of a specific time in my life: from an insecure newbie in the city to blossoming into an adult and professional. To this day, some of them have become my closest friends, and it’s one of the things I am most thankful for from that first job.
The friend I still keep in touch with, no matter which country we’re in. We still manage to update each other on significant things in our lives: loves, friends, families, and all other shenanigans. The term ‘best friend’ always makes me feel insecure because ‘best’ is such a huge word for me; it entails choice. But she’s one of them, if I ever had a list of them. A distinct memory: walking down the side streets of sunny Rome, tipsy from too much Aperol spritz, laughing and crying from reminiscing and telling stories. I keep that moment close to my heart.
The people I met and became friends with when I decided to put my life in a suitcase and move it across the globe. There’s already a lot of articles describing how hard it is to make friends as an adult - and it really is - so I feel incredibly lucky to find a tribe at this stage. Our conversations volley from the silly to the serious all the time, and I feel privileged to know people with such varied and open perspectives on life (I suppose growing up gives you that). Hanging out is always a happy affair. I thank them for making my moving-abroad days a little less lonely each time.
The friends I meet-up with just once in a while for a catch-up, but it always feels as if no time has passed since the last time. The same comfort lingers, the same vibe. They feel like a time capsule—one whose company allows me to consistently relive a version of myself. But at the same time, we can compare and contrast how much each of us has changed over the years. To hear comments like, “It’s amazing how you still think the same way,” or “I can’t believe how much you’ve changed,” and feel comforted by them—always knowing it’s genuine wonder and that they mean well.
Those friends who silently cheer me on and tell me, whenever they get the chance, how I inspire them or that they feel happy whenever they see a post of mine pop up in their feed. They make exposing a part of myself—my countless hobbies, my passion for random things, my need to document and romanticize my life, my countless musings, etc.—worth it. Every once in a while, I get pretty bad imposter syndrome and just close up. But hearing these words of encouragement (sometimes, freakily, at the exact moment I need them) gives me back my vigor to create and share.
The countless online friends I’ve met across platforms over the years. I haven’t met most of them in person, but I’m glad they exist. I talk to some of them from time to time, but mostly they proactively (and randomly) message me with words of encouragement. Something I realized lately while looking back on my years of sharing things online is that the (supposed) need doesn’t come from wanting to be famous or chase clout. Sometimes, you love something so deeply that the love overflows, and you just want to share it—or else you’ll explode. Sometimes, you just need a simple acknowledgment or validation that the things you find amusing are amusing to others too. Otherwise, it feels like you’re just shouting into the void.
And to finish this list off: my siblings, specifically my little sisters. There was a time when I was annoyed by being part of a big family (as one often wishes away what they have and craves what they don’t). Now, I am incredibly thankful for having siblings who I can honestly call my friends. It’s a complicated relationship - as Coco Mellor’s Blue Sisters put: “Who can explain the urge to take a relationship as primal and complex as a sibling and reduce it to something as replaceable, as banal as a friend?” - but it’s a unique one that I cherish with all my heart. To have friends ‘by default,’ and never feel alone in things. To know you have people you can fall back on when all else fails or when no one’s available. There is beauty in its permanence.
Watching those shows growing up, where characters have a single core group around whom their lives revolve, made me crave that kind of connection in my own life. But growing up and maturing made me realize and appreciate the fact that friendships can take on different forms and don’t have to be boxed into a certain aesthetic. I forgot the exact quote but in Dear Dolly, Dolly Alderton pointed out something along the lines of having specific friends for specific purposes/reasons—and I feel this in my soul. Each of my friendships holds a specific part of me, and most times they don’t overlap. I am not one thing, and I feel that only when you line up my identity in each of my relationships (plus, of course, the one I have in my head) will you get a complete, accurate picture of myself. Some people are lucky to have found their tribe once. I suppose I am privileged as well to find fragments of it in multiple people - fragments that make up a satisfying whole. And for this, I am eternally grateful. ˖ ❀ ⋆｡˚
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Loved this! I have many different friends, all of whom match a different part of me and whom I’m grateful for. We are definitely made of the people to whom we tell things to
Riza, this was absolutely beautiful! 🥹 It made me reflect on the friendships I have—the ones where we keep in touch constantly, the ones I connect with in occasionally, and the ones for one reason or other I don't keep tab on anymore. Thank you for writing this!