Hide and Go Seek…
So earlier this week a friend pointed out that she couldn’t find my profile on FaceBook when doing a search for my name… I had somehow managed to block myself in the privacy settings.
1… 2… 3… block myself…
Pointing that out has been one of the biggest favours she has ever done for me BECAUSE within hours of unblocking myself I got a friend request that brought in a flood of memories and emotions.
I first met G (I’m scared of jealous husbands – not really, but let’s pretend I am) when we were both 13. She had come camping on our farm with my sister as a Girl Guide and at some time over the weekend I took her for a ride on my motorbike.
I can still feel her arms around me.
I had gone through the normal, pretend primary school crushes and week-long boyfriend-girlfriend stuff, mostly for the sake of wanting to fit in but, even though G and I never kissed or even held hands, in all the years we have known each other, she was the first person to make me feel like a man. Someone was feeling safe in my arms and damn that felt good!
1… 2… 3… touch myself…
But we were young and our parent’s wishes and boarding school confinement ruled our lives. G’s mum was a widow raising 3 children and she was fiercely protective. G wasn’t allowed to have a boyfriend and I was too deep inside a box to question any type of parental authority. And so I kept my distance.
I’m sorry I did that. I’m sorry that I didn’t have the confidence in myself to know that the story was real and not just an excuse to not want to hang out with me. I’m sorry I didn’t find a way through the barriers and, mostly, I’m sorry I’ve only recently realised how precious friendship can be.
I’ve never had any close friends (and even writing that seems so pathetic even though it isn’t). I’ve tried to fit in and do the buddy thing but, as someone pointed out to me in a joke lately, I’m the one person who could quite happily be a hermit. I am a proud loner.
But I am not lonely.
About 7 years ago my eldest son, full of tears, told me how lonely he was at school. That he spent every break sitting under a tree by himself. God… I know how that felt. I tried to explain to him that if I was as brave and comfortable with who I am back then, as I am now, I would have spent more time cherishing those moments alone under the tree instead of wasting so much time trying so hard to “fit in”. I don’t think that made a lot of sense to him but I am glad that he is not as lonely anymore (being an exceptionally talented sportsman and an awesome guy has helped). I am glad that he is realising that being the person who sits quietly under a tree with their thoughts doesn’t make you a loser… It just makes you an individual. And seemingly deep and serious.
And deep, serious guys get laid. often.
I am glad, mostly, for myself though. I am glad I have discovered that having a couple of close friends is more important than being in love or popular or having a physical relationship.
But… I’m still sorry.
I’m sorry I didn’t know that when I was 13, 14, 15, 33.
G should have been the girl I took to my Matric Dance. The date you took because she was your best buddy who you wanted to share the moment with and not because there was a remote chance you’d get to first base with the chick you took instead. G should have been the friend I called from a tickeybox behind the Officer’s Mess of some remote Airforce base. G should have been there to kick my arse when I screwed up my marriage and there to pick up the pieces. G should have been my best friend and I should have let her in.
God knows how much I needed her.
God knows how much I have missed her.
