The idea of acquainting my various friends excites me in a way that’s usually reserved for great first dates or besting myself at something. I’m constantly striving to sync everyone up in any way possible: either through direct introductions or by inviting a handful of friends to the same place with the hope that they’ll finally be able to put faces to each other’s names.
Despite loving alone time, I also really love people—and I really, really love my friends. I’ve never been the type of person to have pseudo friendships or friendships of convenience. If you’re in my life, there’s no question that I value you deeply and respect you a lot. I can’t imagine bothering with relationships that don’t qualify under those criteria, though I know it happens more often than not.
I know not everyone feels things (or people) so intensely, which is fine, too—but this is my cross to bear and I’m pretty okay with it. And everyone certainly does not get off to the idea of all of their friends finally ending up in one place, forming an epic picture of their life thus far and the different paths they’ve taken/places they’ve been. But I fucking love it—when it happens it thrills me, and the result is that I’m constantly working to recreate it.
I thought about this the other night when a handful of people I know from very different places (and whom I met at vastly different periods in my life) were huddled on a rooftop together drinking blissfully for no reason other than: it’s summertime. The rooftop was an ex-boyfriend’s, who is now more accurately a really good old friend. One of my best friends from middle and high school came, with one of her newer friends who is quickly becoming one of mine. There were good friends from college and their friends, too. Even a onetime Tinder date turned friend, because why not?
It was just like that Ludacris song about hoes in different area codes, except not at all:
Needless to say I had invited everyone else I considered a friend in New York City, selfishly hoping that my dream of everyone being in one place at the same time would come true. Since people have lives unconcerned with fulfilling my weird ideals, it didn’t, but the little conglomerate that did form was good enough.
Why, exactly, do I find these introductions so delightful? It can’t simply be a narcissistic itch to see a glimpse of my twenty-three years in human form.
More than that, I think, is the satisfaction that comes from sharing people I really like with other people I really like. There’s a sense that they’ll know me better by knowing other people I know well, because if you don’t know the people who make up my life, you don’t really know my life.
And it’s simply fun to spark new friendships, to link together two disparate corners of your life so that they feel less far apart.
I can’t be totally alone in feeling this way, right? You, too, dream of mass picnics overflowing with every person you’ve ever met [sans the shitty ones] and endless deliciousness to eat and drink? Just say yes, and we’ll get to making this weird friendship fetish a reality.