The friends I release from my life are the ones who, when I call, scold me: “Why do you only call me when you need me?!”
Because a few years ago, Achituv taught me something big:
True friends call you precisely when they need you.
Many people carry a friendship script in their heads: a deep friendship of endless heart-to-heart talks, constant interest in how you are doing, a happy-new-year greeting every holiday — and out of all that, we will also help each other in times of trouble.
But in the friendships of adult life, inside busy lives, that script is pure fantasy — or relevant, at most, to two or three friends.
Most of the connections we have are ones that were once close and beautiful, but in the rush of things are hard to maintain.
And then, precisely out of the distance of time, it becomes clear which friendship was truly one of love and generosity, and in which friendship there was a trace of manipulation.
In the friendships that were of love and generosity, I can call a friend I have not spoken with for five years and get to the point within half a minute:
“What’s up, bro? Listen, I’m here at the Kfar Hananya junction — remind me how to get to that amazing spring we once went to?”
Straight to it, just like that. Sometimes followed by a short how-are-you, sometimes not. And he answers right away. And gently offers help, too.
But there are those with whom, if I call, it will immediately open with a scolding kvetch: “Oh-ho, His Honor finally calls! What happened, you suddenly remembered me? Why haven’t you called for two years already, you sausage?”
Why? I’ll tell you why. Because life, oh, life. That’s why.
And you know something?
What did that ribbing achieve? Only that now I truly won’t want to call him in the future either. I have a very sharp nose for manipulation, for attempts to emotionally extort love by force. In a perfect reversal, the one who demanded a closer connection only pushed me further away.
And the one who simply answered warmly and generously? He is exactly the one I will call the next time I need something. And out of that the connection will go on and deepen, and we will take an interest in each other and meet up and chat. In fact, even if we don’t meet for another two years, no matter. Because when there was real love, you can talk even after five years of not seeing each other and flow straight into the conversation. No tension, no drama, no apologies.
Because our master and teacher Paul McCartney already said it, in a line that, as far as he was concerned, summed up all the Beatles’ songs:
“And in the end, the love you take is equal to the love you make.”
A friend who emotionally blackmails you: let him come looking for you.
A friend who greets you warmly, simply, without trying to claim you: he will receive closeness and warmth in return.
And so Achituv was right.
True friends call you precisely when they need you.
When I’m in trouble and running through my head whom to call, my brain automatically filters out all those who, precisely in the name of “the deep connection,” would first demand that I come for Shabbat, and a coffee, and a phone call every month.
The brain will choose, almost subconsciously, the ones with whom what we had in the past was loving enough that they will simply say: how great, good to hear from you, what do you need? Up to half the kingdom.
And after the deeds, the hearts follow. Out of that, the hot-chocolate and coffee talks will come as well.
