They’re happy to bring contributions to the meals and to lend a hand with cleanup. They’ll even help out at the fundraisers. But they simply can’t match her, invitation by invitation. By discrediting the help and appreciation she does get, and by feeling slighted when less energetic folks can’t do for her what she does so easily for others, Judy may well be depriving herself of important friendships. She often leaves mystified people in her wake, wondering what they did wrong that they are no longer included on her A-list.
A new client, Hannah, is upset. Her best friend, Amanda, hasn’t been able to spend time with her in weeks. Hannah says she makes all the phone calls. She says that she is the one maintaining the friendship. If she didn’t drop by, she thinks she wouldn’t see her friend at all. She feels put upon. “I’m the giver and she’s just a taker,” she tells me.
Maybe yes. Maybe no. Friends since they were in college together, the women’s lives have become increasingly out of sync. On further questioning, I find out that Amanda has had three babies in the last four years. Hannah is single and doesn’t have a child. The difference in their stages of life doesn’t have to mean the end of the friendship. It does mean that Hannah needs to be willing to do the lion’s share of the maintenance for now. When they do get a moment together, Hannah is the first to admit that it can be just like old times. If she values those moments, she needs to learn some tolerance for being the call-er more than she is the call-ee.
Fairness often isn’t a day by day thing. With true friends, it sometimes happens from year to year or even decade to decade. Amanda’s children will grow out of babyhood, more quickly than either of them imagine. At some point, Hannah may be the one with the baby or some other compelling demand on her time and her energy and it will be Amada’s turn to make sure they stay in touch and involved in each other’s lives.
Ed has been coming to see me for help with his anxiety for almost a year. He and Alan work together and enjoy each other’s company. Both are avid Red Sox fans. Alan won a raffle prize of two box seats at a key game and has invited Ed along. Ed is stressed. “Sure I’d love to go to that game,” he tells me. “But I can’t. There’s no way I can ever pay something like that back.”
Maybe yes. Maybe no. “Where is it written,” I wonder aloud, “that there has to be a payback in kind?” I suggest that maybe Alan feels paid back simply by sharing the game with someone who loves the Sox as much as he does. Or maybe Ed holds up his end of the friendship by being there in other ways. Ed isn’t convinced. It’s only after a half-hour of gentle prodding that he is even willing to check it out with Alan. The next week he comes in looking happier than I’ve seen him in awhile. He did ask Alan how he could return the favor. Alan told him he thought that he, Alan, was the one paying back. It seems that Ed had helped him out on the job several times in the last few months and Alan is grateful.
Somehow Richard’s mother’s rules of propriety, of how things “ought to be” between friends, are still in the atmosphere. The expectation for immediate and equivalent reciprocity has the potential to leave people lonelier than they have to be. The truth is that relationships are rarely minute-by-minute in balance. Equality of intent, energy, and caring can’t be measured by exact give and take any more.
The ebbs and flows of complicated lives make one or the other of a pair of friends more able to be on the giving end from time to time. Reciprocity can and should be uniquely defined for each friend depending on his or her situation. As long as both people do what they can when they can and both feel enriched by the contact, the friendship will feel balanced and fair over time. If she could understand that no one is being taken advantage of in the arrangement, I think even Richard’s mother would approve.