YOU’VE GOT A
FRIEND IN ME
four writers ponder the ins and outs
of having and being a good pal.
By
Eleanor
Robertson
Around the third time my friend
started dating a married father
of small children, I came to what
should have beenanobvious
conclusion: she was probably not
going to stop doing this. My rose-
tinted glasses weren’t of a strong
enough prescription for me to
believe her when she said it wasn’t
serious, and she had no feelings
for him. Especially given she told
me this while weeping openly in
public, because the married father
of small children had referred to
her as ‘mate’ rather than ‘sweetie’
in a text message.
My friend’s self-destructive
dating habits aside, I also realised
this is the realbread and butter
of friendship: watching someone
fuck up in exactly the same way
over and over again, like that bit
inThe SimpsonswhereSideshow
Bob repeatedly steps on upturned
rakes and smacks himself in the
face. It takes a lot of patience to
comfort and advise someone who is
suffering due to an unforced error
they have inflicted on themselves
for the fiftieth time, like a dog
who won’t stop eating kitchen
twine even though it’s suffered
three previous instances of bowel
torsion from doing it.
According to some accounts, the
powerful collective ability humans
have to improve our behaviour by
learning from mistakes is part
of what differentiates us from
animals.Wedon’tevenhave to
personally make a mistake to learn
from it. If myfriend had really
wanted to inform herself before
deciding whether to use Tinder
to specifically searchfor men in
committed relationships, she could
have used the veritable library’s
worth of documentationfrom other
people throughout history that
suggests this is, on balance, a shit
idea. Books dating back centuries
have been writtenabout the
question, “should I date a married
man?”. There’s probably an institute
dedicated to studying it.I’m not judging my friend for doing
something so heinously stupid
over and over again–Idothesame
thing. We all do the same thing.
Atleast her repetitive mistake was
only on the order of ‘personally
and socially catastrophic’, rather
than something really dumb
like habitual drink-driving,
or doing multiple expensive
graduate degrees because you
can’t face entering the workforce.
Itseems acceptable these days
to terminate a friendship on the
grounds that supporting someone
who can’t stop doing something
bad is enabling them. But we all
need friends who will listen to
us run circles around ourselves,
justifying objectively terriblechoices, and repeat the same
advice knowing it will, yet again,
go in one ear and out the other.Exercising this level of stoicism
when yourfriend announces
they’ve decided to put afourth trip
to Europe on their third credit
card is no easyfeat. The immediate
impulse is one of scorn: how are you
this stupid? Did you put a big metal
syringe in your ear and suck out
the part of your brain that stored
the memories from last time this
went wrong?Are you telling me
this to punish me? Do you need me
to put socks on your hands so you
don’t scratch up your own face like
a newborn baby?The more humane and, eventually,
rewarding reaction is one based on
love. Giving people honest guidance
and support often feels utterly
futile at the time, especially when
they’re wrapped up in their own
personal psychodrama. But having
received this kindness from people
in the past, I know it can lead to one
of the more profound experiences
it’s possible to have: the feeling of
something finally sinking in. One
moment you’re merrily fucking
things up again. The next, your
head echoes with the sound of
your friend’s voice saying, on 30
different occasions: don’t do this.
You know better than this. Then,
and only then, in the full light
of your friend’s concern, are you
able to finally step away from the
upturned rakes.writers’ piece