Every week, author Emma Jane Unsworth tackles modern friendships in her column
One of my favourite things about Marriage Story is the list at the beginning of the film detailing what the couple love about each other, even though they are on the verge of breaking up. It made me think how I could reel off a list like that for many of my friends.
Take Siobhan. What do I love about her? Let me count the ways. You can put her in any room and she’ll be able to talk to anyone, even the people who are scared to speak. She applies jewellery like other people apply make-up – in layers, sculpting angles, catching light. She has something intelligent to say about every emotional problem you present her with. The list just goes on.
Our meet-cute was in our early twenties. Siobhan was the sister of my boyfriend’s friend, and 10 of us met up for dinner in Manchester. I was mesmerised by the pregnant Tank Girl at the other end of the table, her dreadlocks swishing as she talked. She was the youngest there, but she held court. We made each other laugh along the distance of the table.
We swapped email addresses that night, but I didn’t see her again for two years, by which point I’d broken up with the boyfriend. Siobhan emailed out of the blue, asking if I wanted to meet. She told me about her toddler, her MA and, as we chatted, the reconnection was instant. It’s a kind of friendship that comes along a few times in a lifetime: that sweet spot between a meeting of minds and a place to fall. A thrill and a sanctuary. As the years passed, the romance grew into a sort-of marriage with Siobhan, even though we didn’t have the rings and paperwork to show for it. And, just like a marriage, it’s had its undulations.
When I moved away from Manchester in 2013, my friendship with Siobhan survived... at first. But trouble was afoot. We’d both got busy, being at that point in our mid-thirties when we were building our careers more consciously. But then she was due to come and visit with her son, and I cancelled, saying I had deadlines. I did it by text – like a coward. She didn’t reply.
Sometimes, the details remind you to shape up rather than check out.
Weeks later, I tried calling. She dropped my calls. She ignored my texts. Weird, being ghosted by someone you have known for 10 years. When she eventually answered (I was in full stalker mode by this point, calling three times a day), she read me the riot act. It was so well-rehearsed that I knew how much she’d worried about it. It looked like we might be getting a divorce.
But I didn’t want to. I felt the ground threaten to disintegrate beneath me. My priorities had been all wrong. In the end, I just had to call her, apologise, and say I’d taken her for granted. I knew I was about to lose a keeper. Thank God I made that call. Better to be told to piss off than lose a soul sister.
Sometimes, the details remind you to shape up rather than check out. Siobhan and I rebuilt our intimacy detail by detail: jokey texts; daft photos. It can take as little as five seconds a day to keep a friendship alive. A note here, a gift there. It’s the minutiae that bonds, and re-bonds, two people. The things that say: I know you and I’m thinking of you. Life is chaos, but you’re in the flux with me – so on we roll, sister.
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