An Ode to Being Single

Independence has always been my modus operandi. I always seem to enjoy life a little more when I have few outside influences on my thoughts and decisions. Now, I don't want to seem like a pushover, like I'm a 'yes' man and I'm easily influenced, but I always consider and often assimilate the ideas of those who I trust.

However, in whose hands I've placed my trust has always been a soft point.

As a lot of people, I've been guilty of a certain lack of scrutiny in choosing my friends. I'm twenty-four years old, nearly 25, and I can say I haven't completely wasted the last seven years since I graduated from high school. It's been a great learning experience about life, and the past year especially has taught me the most important lessons I need to know about friends. The irony of it all is, it's a very simple lesson my mother's been trying to teach me since I was very young:

"If, over the course of your life, you end up with four or maybe five really good friends, you should consider yourself lucky."

She wasn't the originator of that sentiment. That was passed down by generations to her, and has now been passed to me. I've only realized it very recently.

I had a strange experience earlier this year. I believed I had a stable of good friends, what we called a 'circle' of friends. It was probably a solid fifteen people who'd attend each other's parties, help each other out with our odd projects and dreams, and back each other up through thick and thin. Sure, there were some rough spots over the years, but the most tenured of us had known each other for as many as twelve years. There was very little any of us could do to break the spirit and the solidarity of the group, very few unforgivable taboos to be crossed. It was a tight-knit crew, a platoon built on the idea of 'mutual friends'. You know the idea when it comes to meeting friends of friends, that moment when you say, "If he/she's cool with you, then welcome to the club!"

Then I shattered a previously unknown unforgivable taboo:

I crossed the circle.

I started a relationship with a girl that was already in the group. A girl-who happens to be near and dear to me and everyone else-became attracted to me, and I to her, and we decided to break the unspoken oath of 'no hooking up with anyone inside the group!' How the hell was I supposed to know?

When it came to this situation, I held the same view I hold now. I wasn't going to ignore how I felt for anyone. There are certain things you avoid out of decency, like sleeping with your friend's girlfriend, or his sister. The way I saw it I was doing neither of these. I wasn't even sleeping with this girl yet, but that's not how two of my buddies saw it.

It was betrayal. It was a travesty that would forever tear the fabric of our group, rendering it irreparable for eternity. It was the apocalypse. Well, that's how they treated it outwardly, whether that's what they thought or not. Mind you it was just these two who expressed vocally their disdain.

I thought their reaction was a bunch of horseshit. Rightfully, they knew the girl's past and that she could and probably would emotionally use me up and throw me away.

"She's just a tease," most people would tell me. It was clear to them that I was just another in a long line of men she'd dump as a result of cold feet, or apathy, or whatever. I refused to believe them then. Now I believe them wholly.

Despite that, the way these two fellows-who shall remain nameless-handled the situation was unacceptably juvenile. They'd tease us when we were all in the same company, and one of them-on a dare from the other-chose to fart directly on my head. That kind of stuff is for twelve year old children, not adults. I left the building right after that happened, and then they called and asked, "Why did you leave?" Like I said, they were juvenile.

They weren't looking out for me; they were looking out for themselves. They weren't worried about my well-being; they were worried that if she and I were to break up, all situations involving both of us would become awkward and unmanageable. It was a reasonable fear, which I tried to quell unsuccessfully. I told them that A. I believed we'd be together for quite a while, and B. even if we did break up we'd handle it like adults and learn how to coexist without that awkwardness.

I was completely wrong, but that doesn't make them right. A month and three days later, over a Starbucks coffee, she broke up with me. This was only three days after she wrote me a note telling me how happy she was being in a relationship with me. Now I'll never look at an unexpected love note the same way again, thanks Miss A.

Directly after the breakup, I was stunned. From our coffee on through the next two days I was almost unaffected by it, like it didn't happen. Then I tried to talk to her-online-and that was a mistake. I ended up blasting her, instead of trying to keep it civil, I went on to tell her how she'd be single forever and at age 45 she'd be wondering why she'd always been alone. Now I was the juvenile. We all make mistakes.

I understand my two friends a little better now and we've all since mended some fences, but the quality of the group and my involvement in it will never be the same.

This girl left me with some valuable lessons that I'll take to my grave. She even taught me a few things while we were in the relationship, as important as what I learned assessing the rights and wrongs of the ordeal. I'll never mince words or waste my time with people who aren't committed, that's for sure. The most important thing she told me is that I have to look inward more. I have spent a good portion of my life being too generous, being too nice, and being too trusting. She taught me that I need to take care of myself before I can expect to take care of anyone else, which includes family and friends. It's a valuable lesson to be learned, and an obvious one I avoided for years to avoid being considered too selfish.

It helps that I have her as a perfect example of how it affects people of the opposite sex when you lead them on, because it's the perfect opponent to selfishness. It maintains a good balance between the two and I certainly feel like a more balanced, level-headed person since.

I've learned a lot about friends. Shortly after the relationship ended I did a big 'housecleaning' of my MySpace and people whose phone calls I answer. I had to reboot, and I put myself in a hermitage to accomplish the task. I broke my life down to a very small handful of people I truly care about, primarily the people who really had my back during the whole relationship ordeal and certain things prior. Right now I have two people outside my family I'd die for, or kill for, with a third being really close to that status, and I like it that way.

As far as a relationship goes, I'm really picky and hesitant to start anything new at this stage of things. I feel more now than ever that I have to find the absolutely right girl for me. I suppose I always have been like that in some way. There's a certain focus to my pickiness. I've always gone for girls who would before now. They would be in a relationship with me, they would care, they would be interested in my goals as I am in theirs, they would be willing to go the distance if the situation felt right, they would allow themselves to take leaps of faith with me.

The problem these days isn't would they do it, it's could they do it?

So I think I'm pretty comfortable being single until I feel like my heart is in the right, trustworthy hands.