Unconditional friendship
On the conditional nature of friendship in your 20s, all my favorite Substacks on friendships: a love letter to my dearest Juju
Julia and I met when I started working at my first post-grad job. Our friendship began as a means to debrief on the strange behaviors, meetings, and people we encountered at our job – “That was a strange meeting” “I find her so annoying” “Why is she so awkward?!” I remember the first time Julia made me really laugh. She was telling me how her check-ins with one of our supervisors were always so awkward when, unknowingly, he quickly passed through the room. At our first happy hour, which I had carefully planned out to attend just so I could get to know her, we talked for so long because we discovered our shared love for Lana Del Rey. I thought of course this friendship would only remain in the workplace; I was a full-time employee and she was an intern, ready to depart in a short month and a half.
Though we only texted each other and asked each other about when we would go into the office together, we would always say, “we have to hangout!” despite there being no intention behind it. Maybe it was the fact we couldn't see each other past co-workers or because our life stages were so different, but by chance, or Justin’s willpower to not go to the MFA alone, we hung out the first time the three of us on a sunny fall afternoon.
Soon, the three of us would not only message each other on teams but formed an intensely active IMessage group chat and debriefed about our silly jobs together. Despite texting each other frequently in the group chat, the one-on-one conversations I had with Julia were few if any.
At last, Julia was set to end her internship at the end of December and with it, I also thought our friendship–she would go back to college, and I would continue on with the silly job. I often reflect so many of the post-grad/20s friendships you make are greatly conditional. You are both at the same jobs, you both live in the same city, you both are single, etc. And though they might be lovely to hang out with, there is a degree of separation, a half built wall in between you two knowing this symbiotic relationship is temporary, as most things in your 20s are. Someone put it nicely in a comment about friendship “...so many women see other women either as "competition" or as accessories to their chosen station in life.” Truthfully, I've had many friends, in my short two years post-grad, once that condition (they move away, we no longer work together, etc.) is removed, the bond cannot stand for itself and is reverted back to what it was once before—we sometimes catch up with a cup of coffee or simply text each other once in a while.
That of course could have been the situation with Julia, but she made a serious effort to text both me and Justin asking us about work, our coworkers, and of course the cats. Despite the busy, insular life of the college student, Julia always made an effort to see her ex-coworkers with breakfast, lunch, a hangout in the museum, or just catching up for hours in my basement.
Of course, The bond of a friendship can go through hardships and be tested upon. I remember the day I received the text about Justin and I tried calling a lot of people, hoping one of them would pick up. Julia not only answered in her first call but immediately came to me and called an uber in that same thirty minutes. There is nothing beautiful or comfortable about comforting a girl screaming and crying in the streets. She slept in the same bed we both hoped we would wake up from and find out it was all a nightmare. There is nothing beautiful about having to attend two celebrations of life, one in which she held my head as I cried relentlessly in the rain knowing it was really over, the other in which I was too nervous to give a speech but she helped me calm down. There is nothing beautiful about having to take too much care of a friend through periods of restlessness, but of course Julia showed up.
I also thought with such a devastating loss, our friendship could never be the same, which truthfully it was. I thought the next time we hung out without our third member of the group it would be too weird for it to happen again—like in movies, most friend groups break up after losing one of them. It was when we played Champagne Coast on the MIT bridge while the silence that gripped us when she said, “I feel there is a different type of bond we have formed now with Justin gone.”
Julia and I text each other about at least 5 times a day. Often our texts start with “Hi can I vent about something” “I really need to tell this to someone” and debrief situations over and over again. I tell her things I'm too ashamed or guilty to admit to other friends, my parents, or anyone would know about me. There are things between us that no one–I mean no one would know.
Julia and I of course do “in our 20s” hangouts when we see each other–on weekends, at brunch, for dinner, for a movie. The hangout, however, feels so much more different than others. We catch up, of course, but because we know each other upside down, not from instagram stories or close friends stories or “you have to tell me about it next time we hangout!” but because she checks in on you, she is thinking of you, she wants to know of you.
She is the first to know about my life plans (plan A, B, C to all the letters of the alphabet) because there is no judgement, there is no convincing for one path or the other. Julia listens and she knows–she simply knows. Julia said there is nothing like losing a best friend can bond us so tightly which of course is true. But I also haven't experienced friendship so tight that not a singular condition could deter it.
