A Friend In Deed.

Sometimes I say things that may lead one to believe I am seeking sympathy or reassurance.  Please know that isn't the case.  Truth is I don't typically deal well with sympathy or reassurance.  I don't know how to process it correctly.  I've often come off the asshole when people try to sympathize or reassure.  My reaction isn't insincere.  It isn't that I'm not grateful for your words...I just simply...can't internalize them.  I really don't like when people offer me those things, because I probably WILL come off the asshole, and I don't want to...so I will NEVER seek sympathy or reassurance.  Please understand this, as I write what I'm going to write.

I don't think I'm a very good friend.

I am by nature of my humanity, compelled to desire certain amounts of social interaction.  I also, for the most part, enjoy that interaction when I encounter it.  I don't need as much though, as most people,  it would seem.  I can go very long stretches of time without any interaction at all.  When I do get it, no matter how little it may be, it will typically sustain me for another long period of time.

In fact, now in the digital age, I can get every single bit of social interaction I need, barring actual human physical contact.  I miss that.  Sometimes.  But again, I can go a long time without it, and not really even notice.  Until I do.  I confess to certain biological urges that can at times be frustrating, and even to a point, consuming...but even those are pretty easily satisfied.  Small amounts go a long ways.

Three different times this week.  Three different people.  I was contacted, asking if everything was okay.  If something was wrong.  It was indicated that there may have been flux or change in our relationship.  If things were weird between us.

All three times this took me by surprise.  

I shouldn't have been.

In my mind, in my life, in my perspective, nothing had changed.  In all three cases the last time I had seen and talked with these people had been pleasant.  Fun.  Enlightening.  Delightful.

In all three cases, the last time I had seen or talked to these people had been weeks ago.  At minimum.

I had not noticed the passing of time.

They had.  And to them...it was significant.

I have this incredibly horrible thing, where I don't really need to be maintained, ergo, I forget to maintain.  I forget that simply because I'm fine, doesn't mean that you are.  It's an honest forget.  I'm not intentionally being callous, or uncaring.  I'm not brushing you aside.  I'm not making you less important to me.  I'm just...sort of a dick that way.  It's not with any intent...but no less dickish.

I love my friends.  So incredibly deeply.  I think of them daily.  

But even those closest to me in my life.  The ones I have let in deeper than all others.  Those who have affected me the most profoundly...even them....I talk to so rarely.  When I do though...

When I do, it is bliss.

Pheromones.  Pheromones are transmitted through the air and received through the nasal receptors.  For this reason they are commonly mistaken as scent.  They are not.  They are simply your personal chemical signature, usually designed to heighten (or inhibit) sexual attraction.  The ad and marketing industry has banked a lot of money on you not understanding how pheromones work to make egregious amounts of money.  Unfortunately this has, to a very large degree, worked.  Your pheromones cannot be manipulated by a perfume, soap, spray, pill, drug, or really anything else.  In fact if any of those things do anything at all, it's mask and hide what you already do naturally.  All the gods bless the desire for sex, and what you'll do and spend to get it.

Now having just stated how pheromones work, and how so many people don't understand how they work, I'm now going to display how I have no idea how they work...but still express my theory.

I think my pheromones are messed up.  I don't think they send out any type of communication that states "Hi there, I'm interested in conjugal sexual activity, would you care to join me?".  

I think instead, what my chemicals communicate, daily...to complete strangers is, "Hey, sit down.  I know we've never met, but your deepest, darkest, inner turmoils, thoughts, fantasies, desires, kinks, and confessions are safe with me, and you should probably reveal all of that within 39 seconds of our first hellos.".

This happens.
A lot.

I don't know why.  I've tried to understand it for a very long time.  Finally, I had no choice.  I settled on pheromones.  It's certainly not anything I'm consciously putting out there, but out there it seems to be.  I therefore, must be sending that signal.

I think I'm a pretty good friend.

I may not stay in touch as often as you'd like.  I may seem flippant, distracted, or aloof.  My attention may be split a thousand different ways.  Or seemingly so.  Trust me on this though, when you have me...I'm yours.

You see it's not just strangers who come to me with all their secrets.
It's my friends too.

I have been priest
confessor
therapist
conspirator

to many of the closest people in my life.  Again this is nothing I blatantly advertise.  Simply something I do.  I guess I generate a certain trust.  I'll never break it.  I'll never judge for it.

Almost anytime someone has told me something dark and painful, or even to them, slightly disturbing...I've never been darkened, pained, or disturbed.  So many times when I reply, I am told...oh so quickly...that I had given the most unexpected response.  People are waiting for me to think less of them. For me to judge them.  For me to condemn them.  Sometimes for the most innocuous things.  Sometimes for the most bizarre.  Sometimes for the most horrible.  I never do.  Not once.  If there's something that just has to be said, and no one to say it too...well...I guess I'm that guy.
My friends know this already.
Apparently so do strangers at bus stops.

I may not cry, but I'll share your tears.
I don't really need to be held, but I'll hold.
Sometimes I talk, but I more often listen.
I don't get lonely, but I'll be there when you are.

This whole dropping off the planet, losing touch thing I do...I'm aware of it.  There have been a number of times I've even dedicated myself to addressing it, possibly even fixing it.  Being a better person.  A better friend.  Like oh so many resolutions we make it life, it always falls off about three days after making it.  I don't mean to be horrible.

My intention to not be...doesn't make it any less so.  I realize this.
But I am what I am.

I'm the guy who'll occasionally talk to you.
Sometimes see you.
and
ALWAYS love you.