A Lesson in Humanity

aka the miracle of 'friend'

The millisecond it came out of my mouth I knew I had messed up. The rest of the conversation was awkward and filled with long heavy silences. In hindsight I should have stopped and said something right there to clear the air. Instead I moved forward into oblivion, hoping that some distance would do the trick. It didn’t. The rear view is always the best view (or whatever that saying is).

In a brief moment of thoughtlessness, I brought attention to something my friend was both struggling with and self-conscious about. I wasn’t trying to be funny or crack a joke. I was confused about something and opened my mouth before utilizing the brain that sits in my skull. Had I waited 1.35 seconds, I would like to believe that my synapses would have fired and I would have made a different choice. A better choice. Basically any other choice than the one I made. But I didn’t.

When it was time to leave, we hugged like we always do. Perhaps we had gotten back on track? Maybe my words weren’t even a blip on the radar? Maybe I was in my head and she hadn’t noticed? In any case, I walked away from our time together feeling icky. I was pretty sure I had fucked up.

Later that day I sent a message acknowledging the thing and apologizing for the thing. My gut was right, my words had landed. They landed hard and heavy and sharp. My friend was hurt. I had fucked up. She was honest with me about the impact but assured me we were okay and she still loved me. A few more follow-up apologies on my end and here we are.

This incident really rattled me. I was left me with feelings of guilt and deep shame. I was instantly transported back to childhood. As a wildly sensitive kid, my feelings were chronically hurt. South city St. Louis was a harsh place. School was a harsh place. A family of intelligent and sarcastic people was also a harsh place. I felt everything all the time. Jokes and criticisms and corrections and jabbings always impacted me. I was constantly licking some wound. In turn, I learned how to dish it out…sorta.

Lacking any finesse or filtration, words came out of me with unchecked enthusiasm. Like a bull in a china shop, I never knew where the line was. Sentences would fire out of my mouth with abandon. 99% of the time my intention was comedy. I thought I was being funny. Sometimes I was. Sometimes I wasn’t. In either case, a path of destruction often lay in my wake. Many a time would I learn just how hurtful my words had been. Being the source of hurt affected me deeply because I keenly knew that pain. I would don a cloak of guilt and shame. Thus the process would repeat itself.

As a grown man in my 30s, it seems I’m not immune to this childhood cycle. This incident with my friend left me reeling for two reasons. One: it startled me. I am much more intentional than I was as a child and was caught off guard when I wasn’t. Two: it went against my identity. My actions went against some of the things I believe about myself. One of my core principles, a pillar upon which I rest a lot of my beinghood, is that I’m a good friend. I would even go so far as to say I’m a damn good friend. I believe I’m loyal, kind, empathetic, funny, uplifting, and fortifying to the people I choose to be around. As a single person with no dependents (except this one!) I put a huge premium on this. My friendships are a lifeline.

That’s why this dumb thing I said shook me up. It was antithetical to the things I believe AND it  sent me marching right back to childhood. What a bummer combination.

The beauty of this incident, as there is often beauty in these situations if one looks for it, lay in my friend’s response. She forgave me. She said, in not so many words, that our friendship was important enough to patch up the pain that was caused. If you think about it, that’s what makes friendship so stunningly beautiful. We choose people we would otherwise have no connection to. We don’t commit to them with legal documents and religious sanctions. There will be no family tree or historical record of the bond. In the absence of that formality, we nevertheless say to someone else ‘you’re important to me.’ It’s astounding.

That’s also what makes friendship so tenuous sometimes. We’re choosing people. People are human. And we’re hoping those humans choose us in return. We are also human. And wherever there’s humans, there’s humanity. Good. Bad. And reckless.

All this is to say, I’m dumbfounded at the miracle that is human friendship. I’m humbled at the offer of forgiveness. And I am apparently destined to learn certain lessons over and over again. For it seems that my being human comes with some baggage: my own humanity.