Failing in ‘the friend thing’.

We often don’t get the friends we want but the friends we need. Or so they say. But what if….sometimes….I want what I want and not what I need?

Somehow we always seem to get back what we put out into the world – and thus attract our own specific brand of crazy when it comes to befriending new people. And sometimes….that sucks.

Don’t get me wrong. I love the (very small) circle of friends I keep, that still tolerate my crazy ass AND can spare the time to take on the world with me. They. Are. Awesome. But my friends are all…like me. In most ways that count. Somehow.

There’s a safety in that ‘choice‘ for the familiar, the known, the comfortable. And a disappointing feeling of being ‘stuck‘ when all you build up around yourself is more of the same.

Because what if you’re….in fact…..not really happy with who you are? What if ‘soort zoekt soort’ (like attracts like) isn’t working out for you because a large part of you wishes you were different?

I often think about the things that I still want to do in life. They’re not grand things like travelling the world or starting up my own company. They’re not things like building my own boat and exploring the unknown or discovering a new way of constructing beehives so as to maximize honey output AND save the world. Dreaming big has never really been my jam, I like realistic short-term goals and achieving them more than working towards life-changing milestones.

But they ARE things I still want to do. And never end up doing because I can’t find someone to do them with. Tough – because doing them alone just…isn’t as appealing. Yet venturing out to find new folk tends to end up with me meeting newer versions of the friends I already have – and no progress on the bucket-list items.

Truly..for someone who starts her list of ‘attractive qualities in men‘ with ‘ambition‘ – I often find myself lacking just that in my personal life. Because if you keep people around you with shared interests. Shared qualities. Shared views and shared routines – undertaking new things can be hard as balls. You’ll have the fucking best of times doing exactly the things you know and love, sure, but it’s always a variation on the same ol’ recipe.

The crux of it is – they’re not even hard things, generally. Like – for instance – I want to learn how to dance (again). I took ballroom classes with a few friends when I was younger and found it so amazing and empowering (even though I was awkward and partnerless and ended up learning to lead and dance the male part because there were too few men and too many ladies needing a partner). And ever since I’ve wanted to get back into it. But only with others (or a partner) who’d like dancing to their hearts delight as much as I would. Not because they (felt that they) had to or just wanted to amuse me or support my needs.

And then there’s plays. Another one of those WTF moments. I’ve always loved musicals. The music, the costumes. Theatre has always drawn me, but save from 2 occasions with (semi-)friends who were kind enough to let me tag along – I never went. Same goes for concerts. Or museums. Actually – come to think of it – I’m an uncultured swine mostly because I just never get off the farm.

But….I want to learn about wine and be taught how to sail. Want to discover martial arts and learn about (applying) make-up. Go to the opera and learn how to fish. Yet I end up playing softball. Gaming and playing boardgames. Bowling and watching (Disney) movies and drinking and couchpotato-ing because that’s all I ever invested in doing. It’s strange how that comfort zone works – isn’t it.

How can a comfort zone be a preferred place to live when at the same time all you do is wonder at the world outside of it and wishing for a person to show it to you, while consistently just pulling new people into that zone of yours and nailing them down.

I keep hoping for an Aladdin to swoop me away to the tune of ‘A whole new world’ while I’m actually just a Rajah that only wants to stay in the Palace garden. Why brain. Why?!