I don’t have many friends; I’m not going to lie. Well, not many real friends. You know, the type of friends who will answer your call at 11pm and talk with you the whole night. The type of friends who know your secrets and don’t judge you based on your past no matter how dirty it once was. The ones who let you know they will always be there when you need them the day you tell them you have just given up on the world and suddenly feel alone. Yeah, I don’t have many of those real friends.
In fact, most of my friends don’t know each other. They consist of people from different school organizations or programs I have been involved in (gay and straight). They have their own group of friends that I will never meet or share inside jokes, so sometimes I wonder what it would be like to have a close group of friends. You know, like the ones on the television who are always hanging out and have plenty of silly stories to share with each other.
I don’t mean to sound negative; I really don’t. I’m happy with the friends I have made, the majority being girl friends (the perks of being a gay guy I suppose). Having plenty of girl friends allows me to share my feelings and relationship problems a lot more openly. Because most don’t hang out with each other, I have the luxury of venting to each one of them about my problems without boring them too much, and each time analyzing my situation a bit further. I hope I’m not using them. I like when they call me “love,” honey,” or “boo,” because that shows they genuinely care about me. I like when they ask about my life, but find this odd because I’m really not an interesting person.
I have a monotone voice that makes a funny story that I’m telling my friends sound like a sad story (I don’t even know how that’s possible). I also have the power of invisibility. I have the tendency to be hanging out with a group of my friends without them really noticing me. The more people in the group, the less I talk (unless I drink of course). I honestly don’t know how I make friends. I’m even more surprised that I’m able to keep them around or I guess after a while they really do leave. Not my best friend though, she’s MY one real friend.
Her and I were in the same program in community college, but we hardly talked in the beginning. We starting talking the following year and ever since then we have truly become the best of friends. I’m able to be my true self when I’m with her, the uncensored-always-making-sexual-innuendos-gay-boy that I am. She even has a nickname for me, Eddyface. I’m still thinking of one for her. If there’s a moment of silence, I never feel awkward, and the laughs that we share are real. I tell her the lame jokes that I tell my family, and she actually finds them funny (at least, I hope she’s not lying). What I love most is that she puts up with my relationship drama and the constant rambles about my life. Kind of like you.
I know I don’t know you, but I do consider you my friend. You know a bit about myself that many people don’t care to know or want to hear. I know I have confused you because I tell you I act differently with my friends, and if I have, then you now know what it’s like to be my friend. Welcome.