As I brought home my take-out gyros, I could see it coming from the horizon. A wall of fog and mist was headed from the direction of Leros over to Patmos almost like something an evil character in a fantasy movie might send. I already knew from looking at my Weather app that Sunday was supposed to have rain, but I didn't know it would become so hazy the night before and I certainly wasn't expecting a visible wall creeping across a calm sea. I have never seen a phenomenon quite like that in the Mediterranean – but then again, I have never been in the Mediterranean in Spring.
In my life, walls of weather have always been the domain of Southeast Asia. Thailand was the first place I stood on a sunny street and watched a gray wall of rain coming at me, drenching everything it touched – and eventually me. Whether it was my shock or stupidity, I got drenched that time. From then on, I knew to take shelter when I saw a wall of water coming – and discovered that shops and food stalls were more than happy to allow people to wait out the rain in their establishments because it rarely lasted more than an hour – and they were likely to sell something during that time.
The same held true for the next 4.5 years as I lived also in Taiwan, Bali and Singapore. In Thailand, I learned from the locals that when the rain came, you had three choices – at least as a guy: get out of the way, put on rain gear of some kind like a light plastic rain poncho, or strip down to your shorts. That year in Thailand, I favored the first strategy and probably had more Thai iced tea and snacks as a result of it. But the next year in Taiwan, I had my own motorcycle. I learned a lot about motorcycles and riding from my friend Jesiah and when we bought our 150 cc (the max legally allowed in Taiwan at the time) "hogs" we also purchased rain gear so that we could live our lives less dependent on the weather. Stopping to put on proper rain gear takes time and some patience. It's absolutely the safe and right thing to do. But sometimes the wall of rain comes at your quickly and rain gear occupies a lot of you're already limited and precious space when you're on a road trip. So, at times we adopted the third Thai strategy of stripping. We usually wore our swim shorts under our clothes for this very purpose and called it riding "Thai Style" as it was not the favored strategy of the Taiwanese. In retrospect, it was absolutely an act of White Privilege as Taiwanese usually gave caucasian foreigners undue deference and latitude.
I was 25 at the time and besides riding around Taiwan in our swim shorts, Jesiah and I were roommates, colleagues and close friends. We had a sustained intimacy that almost goes with the situation – but perhaps it was the strength of our friendship that allowed for us to have that sustained intimacy. That was an age and time in life when my friendships were very important to me and where I invested a lot of resource in people I felt had depth and a sense of spirituality. Living, working and socializing together is a lot for any two people and not without its rough moments. Jesiah was prone to moodiness and I had a yet undiagnosed mood disorder in a country where I drank a LOT of green tea and might have run a little to the manic side on caffeine highs. But most of the time was good and we had adventures that helped me grow, got me out of my comfort zone and taught me new ways of navigating the world. Who knew I would be comfortable on a motorcycle and could chart the best paths through the Taiwanese mountains? Who knew we could come up with such creative places to camp when needed – almost never where we intended or should have?
From ages 23 to 28 I had such adventures with friends - some I met along the journey, others visitors from home who stayed for awhile. Experiences like motorcycle camping, backpacking around Thailand, riding through monkey forests, finding a Nepali family sitting on your knee on a crammed bus, figuring out what that food vendor was selling, treating infections, seeing how we could help after a nightclub bombing, hoping we all could find each other again in the days before everyone had a cellphone when they traveled, finding out how daring a motorcycle taxi driver could be to get us to the train on time, smuggling a case of Beer Lao across the border…. These were the moments that bound us and the stories that became part of our shared narratives.
During this time in life, we shared deeply and became close. We stayed in budget accommodation where sometimes we needed to kill poisonous centipedes or would sleep more people to a room than we should have. One morning on Ko Samet, I awoke in a hot, sweaty fan-cooled bungalow where the power had gone out wedged up against a wall discovering my sleeping friend Jay's elbow was holding my in place while next to him slept my friend Conlan and next to him another friend,Erica. The futon-mat lined two-person bungalow Conlan and I had gotten for ourselves was literally wall-to-wall bodies. Then it turned out that our friend Voy was sleeping on the hammock on the porch – exposed to the mosquitoes.
Somehow, this time in life was when certain societal constructs began to come tumbling down. My friends and I could share beds without fear of it being seen as sexual. We could hug and tell each other we loved one another without it being "gay". After you've been there for someone trying to evict a tapeworm using an enema, finding out the hot springs you rode hours to get to don't allow swim shorts, or working closely together to help someone undergoing a psychotic break to go to a Taiwanese mental hospital, special bonds form. And you realize that there's no need for the one-arm hug or the high-five when all you want to do is tell someone how much they mean to you.
Why in American and Western societies generally, is there the strange underlying suspicion that if two guys hug, it's a quick stumble on a slippery slope into homosexuality? (which has a bunch of other interesting assumptions built in that I won't deconstruct right now). In middle school and high school guys tease and threaten one another by challenging each other's sexuality. Masculinity and sexuality get somehow fused and then used to form hierarchies or organization of social status.
Because of that, many men struggle more with intimacy in their male friendships and it can often take time – if you remain single long enough – to be able to sort that out and not be ashamed to simply hug a friend.
Even if you can figure out the path to quality, sustained friendships in your younger years, friendship doesn't become easier as you age. College is peak social – thousands if not tens-of-thousands of other young people together, exploring their identities, life's possibilities, having fun and looking for human connection. After that, we find ourselves in ever-decreasingly less social environments. During one's twenties, even without the gads of social options of college, other twenty-somethings are still seeking friendships and will generally make the effort to find social environments be it bars, clubs, colleagues, parties and being open to hanging out with friends of friends. There's still room in life for unstructured social time.
By your thirties and forties, socializing increasingly centers around couplehood and couple-friends become more common than individual ones. People are busier in their careers, families and increasing responsibilities and commitments. There's not only less opportunity to meet friends, but to invest in friendships.
I don't think I'm at all alone in struggling with friendship in my forties. I'd like more of it – or more time for it. I have a nice group of friends I really value – but not enough time for them, or them for me. Emily is actually quite supportive of me taking time with friends, but still, it's hard not to feel irresponsible carving out the time with my family or handling some important responsibility to spend on what is in essence myself – because those friendships are for me. Generally, meeting a friend for lunch is the easiest way to responsibly create time – but it doesn't offer much opportunity for depth especially when you realize that what binds us the most are shared experiences. When we start having catch-up lunches instead of life experiences – like those I outlined above from my twenties – intimacy dramatically decreases. Sure, helping one another through life's challenges via supportive conversation can form a kind of experience. It's sort of the "war room" mentality where we dive into an emotional shared space together that doesn't strictly take actions. I'm in one of those right now and am blessed to find I have no shortage of close relationships who are there for me, helping me work through this time.
That said, getting older hasn't made finding good friends easier. I often find myself surrounded by other people, so few of whom I can imagine discussing thoughts on souls and connection to a higher power, let alone wanting to go to lunch with. Get togethers with other parents in our area seem to be filled with talk of real estate, business, teacher gossip, parent gossip, how to navigate the school system to get what you want, issues with my kid, issues with this other family's kid, sports, politics, soccer schedule, being a collector or aficionado of something… mind numbing, mundane shit. I'm not sure why the wheels of American suburban life are greased with shallowness. I wouldn't mind someone – particularly another guy – occasionally sharing where they struggle with balancing it all and responsibility. The actual shared issues of our place in life. It might not be the highest-level stuff, but it is honest and real – and from the realness, there's an opportunity to actually get to know someone and their values. Sometimes there's a lot more under the surface just waiting to get out – parts of people almost suppressed within the necessities of daily life and responsibility. In the past few years I have met a few guys who open up and share, and they have been my main friend acquisitions.
Why does any of this matter?
Despite my inklings and suspicions, I can't speak for others – but I crave to be filled and sustained with ideas and searches. I want to understand my world better and in doing so, contribute more of myself. I want to know people and talk about their joys and pain. I don't want to be alone in mine. It feels good to go through life with companions who are taking on life in a similar way. The hard decisions are not what teacher my I want for my child next year (which I probably wouldn't get even if I wanted it – and which I have discovered isn't necessarily right because often the teacher who works out best for my kids isn't the one I might pick) or whether to remodel the kitchen but what is the right balance between doing right by my family and taking care of me? It's how do I either find more meaningful work or make enough money short-term so that I can do meaningful things long-term? It's do I take on a volunteer role that helps my community – and if so, how do I make the time and which role? It's asking is the life I'm leading teaching the right lessons to my kids and if not, what can I be doing differently?
We need other people to sort through these questions. We need to help other people through theirs. Because it's the answers to these questions that define a life lived – not which brand of product do you use for this or that. In the end, you won't remember the names of most of your kids' teachers and you'll remember which brand of baby bottles you used even less.
The more we are there for one another to sort through the meaningful questions, the more we value one another. Therefore, we're more fulfilled by showing up for people's struggles and tragedies as well as their celebrations – and to truly grieve and celebrate with them, not just attend their events.
I think this right here is why people aren't better friends to one another. The value of deeper friendship sounds great. Who wouldn't want to have a meaningful friendship? Until you realize that being a real friend comes with responsibilities. To be a friend, we have to prioritize someone else, make the phone call, send the text checking in, and hardest of all – to open ourselves to the grieving and celebrating that goes along with living a shared life when ours is already so full of our own pains and struggles – our hearts already and minds already overwhelmed.
Taking the time is an unavoidable challenge of friendship. Time is an all-too-limited resource. But the big mistake is the fear of the scarcity of inner resources. Often, it's through a friend's pain that we address and even lessen our own. Being there for them is being there for ourselves. Moreover, being happy for someone in a true and heartfelt way and celebrating with them is one of the highest things we can do. It's also much easier said than done because we may not always be in a celebrational space at the same time as a friend or loved one. It can actually be hard. Showing up for someone else inevitably grows and heals us. The effort and energy are never wasted.
Friendship is one of the most interesting relationships we have. We are not born into friendships nor is it prescribed that we have them. We have the freedom to choose friends and can have a variety of kinds of friendships that can range from the person you bond with for the duration of an event or flight to a life-long confidant and supporter. We can even have Frenemies with ambivalence.
Studies have show that in American life, the value on friendships from our thirties onward has declined compared to past generations. For better or worse, Americans have put greater stock in their marriages and families and less in their friendships. Perhaps the expectations of marriage have changed. Our marriages and families have more riding on them - they are the center of aspirations and personal fulfillment. I'm not sure that does anyone any good. It may also be a statement about changes in economics. When both spouses work – and work often requires more than a strict 40 hours per week – there may be less room for socializing. We also give more time to our children's activities – driving them places, attending their games and performances etc. I know families who dedicate their weekends to traveling to other cities and states for their kids' all-star games.
Whatever the causes, a well-rounded person needs many sources of fulfillment and a variety of relationships. Friendships are important. I am so grateful for all the friends who have been talking with me – being there for me lately. I also realize that as I imagine what my life could look like – what I want for myself, it involves more time spent with friends who I hug and love, being open-minded, open-hearted and maybe having that next adventure in the Azores or becoming the first people I know to go to French Guiana.
