In the grand tradition of being a crappy hack of a writer, I offer you, dear readers and lovers of fine wine and spirits, the following chunk of the obvious: male friendships are different than female friendships. I don't know why this is, but it's true. Now, it's story time children. Pull up a chair.

During my sophomore year of high school, I let a friend, a then senior named Sean, crash on my floor. Sean's parents had been abruptly transferred to San Antonio and Sean wanted to graduate with the folks he had known his whole life. It was a reasonable request and one both our parents were able to entertain. After he graduated high school, I didn't see him again until two years after I graduated college.

My father marveled at the fact that Sean and I spent exactly zero minutes catching up on each others' lives.My younger brother served four years in the Army. He was a medic with the 10th Mountain Division. The family's very proud (except for Mom, who's just happy that Little Brother came back alive). Brother Jay did his Army Infantry Training in San Antonio at Ft. Sam Houston and my pops and I decided to visit him there. While we were there, I decided to look up Sean and see if he still lived in San Antonio.

Sean still lived in San Antonio. And when I got him on the phone, he was both stoked and psyched (a very rare emotional combination as we all know) to see me. He was also two and a half hours late picking me up at my hotel room. While drinking some bourbon with my dad in said hotel room, the following conversation took place.

Dad: I don't think he's coming.
Me: Sure he is.
Dad: How long has it been since you've seen him?
Me: Seven years.
Dad: People can change a lot in seven years.
Me: Not people like me and Sean.
Dad: Oh yeah, and why not?
Me: Because instant classics don't need to change.
Dad: You are so full of shit it's a wonder your eyes ain't brown.

Sean knocked on the door a few minutes later and we hung out for good chunks of my brief stay in San Antonio. My father marveled at the fact that during our time together Sean and I spent exactly zero minutes catching up on each others' lives and spent the bulk of our time just cracking jokes and having what Pops referred to as "the most tangential, humorous and pointless conversations I have ever heard."

When Sean said goodbye to me after taking me to my first professional basketball game (we watched the Spurs beat the ever-loving snot out of some loser team), he said to me, "Let's not make it another seven years."

Fast forward to seven years later (Memorial Day Weekend). Little Brother once again accomplished something to make the family proud (he got a Masters in Divinity) and once again, the family went to Texas to see him (this time to Austin). Sean made the trek from San Antonio and we spent Saturday night kicking around the Sixth Street bar scene. We told jokes and turned down fat chicks and just had a generally witty and tangential and humorous albeit pointless good time. Sean lost his car in the morning and my dad had to help him find it and when he left Sean and I had the following conversation:

Sean: Let's not make it another seven years.
Me: Shut the fuck up.
Sean: We've got each others' phone numbers this time though…
Me: We've had each others' phone numbers for five years.
Sean: Oh yeah. Well, I guess I'll see you in seven years.
Me: Love you, bro.
Sean: Back at you, baby.

In the seven years since I last saw Sean, he's had a baby, gotten married, lost his wife in an accident, taken a job as an electrician (though not a very good one, he admits) and bought a house. And I wouldn't have found out any of that if other people like my father and sister hadn't forced Sean into revealing that personal information. All I found out on my own was that he hadn't seen Clerks. And that kind of pissed me off.

But that's what a male friendship is. It's not catching up and remembering the old times, it's not learning about each others' life experiences and it's got nothing to do with mortgages or occupations or even children. It's not judging or taking sides or talking shit or pretending to enjoy each others' quirks. Hell, it's not even calling and making sure your friends are still alive. A good friendship is just one in which both parties absolutely enjoy the shit out of seeing each other and therefore try to make each others' lives more entertaining and fun.

And I think if all you snotty bitches reading this would learn what real friendship is, then you'd be less jealous and judgmental and more likely to share me with your hotter friends.

And that's what's important here.

Related

Resources