The older I get, the fewer friends I have. They aren't dying, they're just disappearing. I can't figure it out, but maybe some of you can.
I'll start with my oldest friend, Jane. By oldest I mean the friend I've had the longest, since grade school. We were best friends in the true sense of the word all during grade school, junior high and high school, her college years, my first marriage, her first marriage, my children. Even as adults, we've kept in touch, her life in Omaha and mine in Houston. She came to my dad's funeral and I cried on the telephone when her parents passed away. But suddenly things have changed and I don't know why. Maybe it's because I'm 43 years old and my kids are grown. The oldest will graduate from Texas A&M; University in about four weeks, the youngest has her own job and apartment not far from here. Jane, on the other hand, is about to have her first child at age 41. I'm happy for her because I know of the many miscarriages and disappointments she's had. I certainly don't envy her. My disappointment comes from her not calling to tell me the good news. I heard it from my sister. The baby is due in three months and not one phone call from her. I can't figure it out, but it seems clear to me that our friendship is somehow disappearing. What did I do wrong?
Carol and I became what I thought were close friends after my husband was hired by the same company she worked for. I would fly out to L.A. to visit from time to time and two years ago after her mother passed away and she had no place to go over Memorial weekend, she chose my husband and I as her "family of affiliation" and came to Houston for four days. In my mind, we had a lot in common and to my knowledge we always had a wonderful time doing "girl stuff". We would have lunch at Cafe' Annie's and spend the rest of the day at the most exclusive beauty salon in Houston. We went to the opera, we had dinner downtown, we watched movies, we drank, we talked, we laughed, we stayed up late, we went swimming, we were going to write a book together. But all that changed when Carol suddenly, after eight years of friendship, decided I was a lesbian. Never mind that I have a wonderful husband of eleven years, two grown daughters, and the thought of having a relationship with her other than friends never crossed my mind. All of a sudden in Carol's mind, I was a lesbian, and there was nothing I could say or do to change her mind. She left my house five hours early for her flight back to L.A. a year and a half ago, and I've never talked to her since. I can't figure it out.
Jackie and John were my good friends while I lived in Dallas. My husband travels for a living and they owned the neighborhood restaurant. My daughter and I would go there after work and school two or three times a week. I babysat for their little daughter, Theresa. I thought we were good friends. But Jackie and John sold the restaurant and moved to Austin. They left me their phone number, but not their address. Twice I've been to Austin and left messages on their phone machine letting them know that I was in town and would like nothing more than to see or at least talk to them, but they never called me back. Is it something I said?
Jim and I have been close friends since our college days in Kansas. I was the first person he ever confided in and told me he was gay. I didn't care. I just liked the guy. He was like a brother to me. After the divorce, we lived close to each other. We would go shopping and work in our yards together. We even moved to Houston at the same time and shared a house until we each got on our feet. But that was twelve years ago and now we both live in Houston. He lives in the Heights and I live in The Woodlands, about thirty miles apart, but certainly not an insurmountable distance among friends. At least I thought we were friends. It has been over two years since he's visited me at my house, and months since he's called. I guess I finally got tired of pursuing the relationship and I don't call him anymore either. Another friendship disappearing. It's hard to believe.
As I sit here thinking about all these lost friendships I get very sad and lonely. Is this just a part of growing old? I hope not, but at the same time it gets more and more difficult for me to make new friends. I can't help but think that somehow, some way the new friends will go the way of the old, and that is too painful to anticipate. I have a wonderful family, a beautiful home, a green thumb, a horse, and a swimming pool. I just wish I had a friend to share it all with. At least I wish I knew someone who would enjoy going to lunch with me.
© 1996, Cindy Staudenmaier
