Friendship: A Definition

The friendships
Photographer unknown

Friendship is hard to wrap my head around sometimes. I mean this literally—the question of if I'm friends with someone doesn't always have a straightforward answer. Unlike other types of relationships where the borders seem to be more defined (although not always—the delightfully modern term "situationship" captures that anxiety quite nicely), friendships exist in a much more nebulous reality. You cannot "sort of" be married to someone; you can sort of be friends. 

I've long been fascinated by how friendships evolve. In my 40s, I'm blessed with good friends, although many of them are scattered to the winds; we get by mostly on text messages, phone calls, and semi-annual visits. As a result of frequent moves, I have very few childhood friends, but the science suggests that I wouldn't have retained those friendships anyway—only about 35% of kindergarten friendships persist into grade three. I do wonder what it would be like to have made friends in elementary school and go on to be bridesmaids at their weddings, but those types of lifelong connections seem rare. The flip side is that I do seem to be making new friends well into my 40s, and these are fun and nourishing connections that keep delighting me. 

The "relationship escalator" is a term originating in the polyamorous community, and conveys the idea that romantic relationships have a natural-seeming progression that begins with dating, travels through monogamy and cohabitation, and ultimately ends up with commitment in the form of marriage, shared property, and/or children. This idea is complicated, of course, by people with multiple partners, not all of whom can (or want to) ride that escalator: some people are already married or otherwise committed, and some people never wanted to take any of that on in the first place. 

I was surprised to realize that I was applying the relationship escalator logic to friendships as well. Acquaintances are just friends-in-waiting; friends can always be boosted to bestie status...right? But recently, it's become more helpful to recognize that friendships are more like an ecosystem, with a few big players—your moose, your bears—and then plenty of smaller species that contribute to the overall health of the region. You need all types in your life.  

Here, then, is an attempt to categorize some levels and types of friendship: 

Friendly Face: These folks are barely your friends! They're the nice yoga instructor, or the barista who always takes a moment to chat, or your kid's former second-grade teacher, or your second-grade teacher. They're loose ties. These are the people who create a friendly scrim of humanity when you move through the world. You might not even recognize them out of context, but it's always nice to see them. A group of Friendly Faces is a Coffee Shop. 

Job Buddy: These are people with whom you share a single common experience: work friends, classmates, and, somewhat controversially, mom friends. You might spend hundred of hours with these people in a year—you might like them a lot!—but you rarely see them outside of your shared spaces. These are the folks who help you navigate hockey registration, or troubleshoot the database. If you go for coffee with them, you probably end up talking about work, or your kids, or school. Job Buddies might see you on very bad days, and even have a sympathetic ear, but this is a result of statistics: spend enough time with someone, and some of that time will be when you're crying. A group of Job Buddies is a Christmas Party. 

Coffee Pal: Coffee Pals start to get personal. The time we spend together is not an accident of proximity, but rather intentional, and the point of the time is not survival, but having fun. This is a point at which people start to choose each other, selecting for shared hobbies and interests, similar values, and the ability to make each other laugh. You have inside jokes! A subcategory of this is Drinking Buddies, in which the vibes are high-key chaos but the conversations can go deeper, at least until everyone is hammered enough to forget everything that happened that night. A group of Coffee Pals is a Book Club. 

Internet Friend: Take a slight detour with me. The friendships I'm describing throughout are assumed to be in-person, but the reality of modern life is that we're often hanging out online. An Internet Friend contains multitudes. You may not know if she cut her hair, but you do know about her brother-in-law's gambling habit. You share a particular interest (The Muppets! Cookie decorating!) and send each other internet content about it. You send birthday texts and memes, offer advice on sticky parenting or relationship moments; you see each other in person once a year, maybe. It is simultaneously intimate and distant in ways that would baffle our ancestors. A group of Internet Friends is a Thread.  

A Good Hang: This category of friend is sort of new to my way of thinking, but it became clear that there was a lot of space between Coffee Pals and high-level emotional intimacy. A Good Hang is a friend. (Revolutionary, I know: bear with me.) You see them with relative frequency, given everyone's busy adult lives, and when you do, you can talk about jobs and partners and parents and the existential feelings of life; you can also just gossip and crack jokes. You might help them with their resume, or pick them up at the train station. You can do coffee, or dinner, or a movie, or a long walk. Your kids probably know each other. You know if they're gluten-free or vegetarian. You could probably text them an inside joke and get a good laugh emoji in response. Why did it take so long for me to recognize this level? Well, because of the aforementioned relationship escalator: I was so eager to promote lower-level friendships like Coffee Pals into amazing friends that I forgot that having good friends is also a fucking win. A group of Good Hangs is a House Party. 

Bestie: God, I love a Bestie. These are the people who shape you. These are the friends who love you. They show up. I've had Besties help me move, help me do birthday parties for my kid, help me with relationship turbulence and dissolution; I've offered the same in kind. Emergency contacts of the psyche, actual diamonds, true-blue friends: these are the people who are in it for the long haul. You just get each other, and that getting is such a gift, such a treasure. A group of Besties is a Council. 

There are other categories I could get into—the Historical Friend, who has known you since your youth and, if you were to meet them today, with whom you would have nothing in common; the Frenemy, who exasperates you but cannot be quit; the Single-Issue Friend, who is your concert companion/errand comrade/divorce guru/gym buddy, but who can't quite transition into a more substantial role; your Aspirational Connection, who could be a friend in theory but who is intimidating in some way (professionally brilliant! uncommonly gorgeous! supremely confident! wildly funny!) and so it's hard to find the goofy, non-awestruck common ground that is necessary to root into a friendship; and others. 

But for now, I will be here, grateful for all my Job Buddies and Good Hangs and Internet Friends and, of course, my Besties. I mean it when I say I love you.