Updated: Oct 31, 2022
I hope this post doesn’t trigger that one time you got friend-zoned. If it does, I am sorry. I love you, as a friend…
I was sharing a drink—that turned into drinks—with some of my friends recently and naturally, with the predictability of Liverpool going a goal down in the first half, and grasshopper season in Uganda, my emotions arrested my macho faculties. I interrupted heavy rumor-mongering and nostalgia to tell my friends I liked them a lot.
“You mean, you love us!” the friend on my right chimed in while nudging me playfully.
They were right, so I raised another shot of tequila and edited like to love. In word and in spirit. That shot also capped the critical volume that gave me this throbbing headache. It feels like one thousand midgets in the minefield of my mind are learning how to use hammers for the first time. I will never drink again.
I love my friends. Despite my endless spins on life’s hamster wheel chasing gluts of money and—recently—subscribers, I rank nothing above family and friendship. When your family and friendships are strong, nothing holds greater power to piss you off or spark joy. Nothing. Not even a million dollars. But I am happy to participate in an experiment to prove a million dollars can’t buy happiness. Bring the money and we see.
While chatting with my male friends recently, we talked about the differences between male friendships and female friendships:
A lady posts a thirst trap on her Instagram: lips slightly parted. Bright red lipstick. She glares directly into the scroller’s soul. Deep enough to know your credit card security code and how many times you pick your nose in private. One arm akimbo, the other hovering teasingly close to her slightly parted lips. It’s not a natural position, but it works for her and for us. She rests on a cane stool, nay, a throne, with her legs crossed. Like an arrow from the earth showing directions one shouldn’t follow without consent, the slit in her dress parts the visible from the invisible. Her toes are painted to match her lips.
While trying to zoom in, that resting tremor you should probably get checked double taps the picture. Sh*t! You liked the picture. But don’t worry. She won’t notice. You are not to be outdone by the other droves of internet lemmings liking the picture by force or folly. You check the comments to see if the world shares your mind and you find her friends all but proposing marriage to her. No, they actually propose marriage to her: “Marry me” “I want to be you” “Ugh, you’re THAT b*tch” “How does it feel to be God’s favorite?” “SERVE 🙌🏾” “Come throughh 💃🏾,” and my personal favorite: “Slay us, we are your dragons.” The caption she uses was meant to ground this angel. “Surely, I can’t be this hot without divine intervention,” she probably muttered as she typed the lyrics to Jireh (My Provider) by Lecrae and Limoblaze.
A guy posts his coolest picture. You know that display picture he plasters on all platforms for posterity?
If you don’t know what I mean, check my Instagram, and my Twitter, and my LinkedIn… What have I become? Sigh.
A guy posts that one picture that accentuated all his best qualities and made him a strong West African 7. 3 points deducted for being a sub-six-foot Ugandan with a patchy beard. But the face? The face was immaculate in that picture. A guy posts his Sunday-best picture, and a glance at the comment section reveals a pithy comment from his best friend of 20+ years:
“Gwe, your head keeps getting bigger!”
Why are we like this?
Ironically, male insults from their friends are often rooted in fondness and familiarity forged over years of fighting in school canteens and stumbling in the parking lots of pubs. In fact, usually, the stronger the insult, the stronger the friendship. And you might think—TOXIC! But, in my experience, the banter self-corrects and self-censures. Your male friends will insult you right up to the line they know never to cross. And that line isn’t crossed unless it’s intentional. Unless a fistfight is long overdue.
My favorite thing about genuine male friendship is the power of presence that pieces it together. Guys may not talk about their feelings much but they will show up for their friends. A guy loses a loved one and his male friends show up in droves, assuming responsibility unceremoniously, and offering solutions over soliloquy. They won’t talk about the tragedy much. But they will be present.
Female friendships have all the good in male friendships and more. Women are more evolved and adjusted to be better friends and companions. They show up for each other, they have their own banter, and they talk about their feelings a lot more.
In case you’re waiting for the but, yes, this is a compliment sandwich:
I have female friends who cut off friends because their friend didn’t attend their birthday party. Because they didn’t wish them happy birthday. Because they didn’t call that one time. Because they didn’t text. Because they didn’t quite fill an emotional expectation. Because their friend attended her ex’s party. Because their friend spoke to a person she hates.
As strong as female friendships are, they tend to be—I dare say—more vulnerable to irreparable fracture over petty sentiments.
As I reflect on friendship, I think the perfect pals draw from the well of intentionality and emotional availability women espouse, and add a good measure of the playfulness and compartmentalization men practice.
Be there for your friends. Love them as they want to be loved. Allow them to be vulnerable with you. However, manage your expectations. Everyone is going through something. Everyone’s problems are important to them, so be patient and considerate.
Love because you want to love and not because you want to be loved back. The latter usually happens anyway, and if it doesn’t, clarity is a gift that takes ages to register sometimes.
Have a good week ✌🏾. Call your friends and tell them you love them.
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