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Walk on by
Remember my Very Cherman Friend? I do; barely. I can't remember how many years it's been since I last saw him. In my dream, it was four (which sounds about right, actually, as the last firm memory I have of him is a visit to our house for a summer cocktail party, which I believe we hosted in 2009). He was sitting at a high table in a music store and I walked right past him without placing him. He was happy to see me and greeted me, but even after I recognised his voice, I continued to pretend to have forgotten who he was.
Why, to punish him? That trick never works. My latest attempt to get back in contact was our New Year's social, where he fell into the the vast number of nonresponders who I've sworn to purge before the next invite goes out. Lying in bed, poorly slept and facing a dull dark day, I briefly considered sending him a text and decided against it. If he's made literally not the slightest attempt to maintain a connexion for a couple years now, then it's clear the relationship is, if not over, then close enough as makes no nevermind.
As with every time this happens, I find myself asking, What am I doing wrong? But then another voice reassures me that perhaps the only thing I'm actually doing wrong is agonising about what I'm doing wrong. No relationship, however close (and we were never truly that close, however fond I may have been of him once) lasts forever and to obsess over the death of one is to waste energy which could go into strengthening a newer friendship.
A little later, I had the realisation that I'd completely forgotten the name of my second-year college crush. While preparing for my oral history interview, I was annoyed to realise that I couldn't recall his surname. Then in the shower this morning it occurred to me that what I'd been telling everyone was his given name--Wolfgang--wasn't; he was Wilhelm, and I probably only thought of "Wolfgang" because my roommate at the time once mistranscribed it "Wolfheim".
Why, to punish him? That trick never works. My latest attempt to get back in contact was our New Year's social, where he fell into the the vast number of nonresponders who I've sworn to purge before the next invite goes out. Lying in bed, poorly slept and facing a dull dark day, I briefly considered sending him a text and decided against it. If he's made literally not the slightest attempt to maintain a connexion for a couple years now, then it's clear the relationship is, if not over, then close enough as makes no nevermind.
As with every time this happens, I find myself asking, What am I doing wrong? But then another voice reassures me that perhaps the only thing I'm actually doing wrong is agonising about what I'm doing wrong. No relationship, however close (and we were never truly that close, however fond I may have been of him once) lasts forever and to obsess over the death of one is to waste energy which could go into strengthening a newer friendship.
A little later, I had the realisation that I'd completely forgotten the name of my second-year college crush. While preparing for my oral history interview, I was annoyed to realise that I couldn't recall his surname. Then in the shower this morning it occurred to me that what I'd been telling everyone was his given name--Wolfgang--wasn't; he was Wilhelm, and I probably only thought of "Wolfgang" because my roommate at the time once mistranscribed it "Wolfheim".
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