Dear Modern Austen: Has our friendship changed or have I?
Selfish Friend asks Modern Austen how to be a better best friend when their own life is hard.
Dear Modern Austen,
Lately, I’ve been thinking about what I look for in a friend and how I would even define friendship. I think it’s because I feel that something vital yet indescribable has changed in my oldest and deepest friendship. While this person is my best friend, I can’t tell if they feel, as I do, that we’re somehow not the same friends we used to be. It’s not that we’re growing apart, but more like we can no longer fulfill each other’s friendship needs…at least not right now. We still have fun when we hang out, but now it’s more like two people who are friendly catching up rather than two people who have always been in each other’s lives.
Maybe “catching up” is all a friendship can be for people in their 30s, and my friend and I are just assuming these roles. We’ve been friends since high school, and they are the only high school friend I still have (not that I had many to lose along the way). The others fell away naturally once we got to college, because remaining friends didn’t make sense anymore. I’ve had other friends come in and out of my life at different moments, though I guess I shouldn’t even call them “friends.” These were all just people who were conveniently around. But my bestie has never been a space filler. We’re still friends because we mean something to each other.
And that’s why I’m writing, Modern Austen. I love what our friendship has always been, and I’m not sure I can handle it changing. Nothing major has happened to cause what I’d call a rift; it’s just something I felt one day when we were grabbing drinks at a local bar. More silences fell between us, we didn’t seem to know what to talk about. We’ve seen each other less and less over the past few months, and we only send texts when we realize we haven’t talked in a while. There’s no more texting just because, no more witty banter between us. I mean, there can’t be banter when we each take anywhere from a few hours to a few days to reply to each other’s messages.
I’m making it sound like our friendship is mutually and naturally fizzling out, but I think it might be my fault. I’ve been avoiding my friend and making excuses for why I can’t go out. I’m in a transitional place in my life and have temporarily moved back to my hometown while I plan my next steps, so this is actually the first time we’ve lived in the same place in eight or nine years. We’ve sustained our friendship through phone calls and hanging out when I’m home for the holidays. I suppose being back in my hometown to live, if only temporarily, and feeling uncertain about what I should do and where I should go is part of my reason for pulling away from my friend. But aren’t you supposed to turn to your friends when you need someone to talk to?
I unfairly judge my friend for standing still, for never leaving our hometown. They’ve always settled for being comfortable, while I’ve always strived for more. It’s a difference in our world views that never really mattered to me before, but now I see how stuck they are because I’m stuck too. I don’t want to get comfortable with my current circumstances, I don’t want to feel like my life at home is permanent. I’m afraid that this is what this friendship has started to represent for me. I feel terrible, I feel guilty. I FEEL LIKE A CONCEITED SNOB! How can I allow something so stupid and meaningless to ruin so many years of friendship?
Honestly, I don’t want to be around my friend right now because I don’t feel I can talk to them about what I’m going through. But I’m also afraid that I will say something I shouldn’t, that I will try to offer them advice on what they should be doing to change their circumstances. Even though we’re friends, this doesn’t feel like my place. I’m afraid that our friendship will only go back to normal—for me—when I feel settled again.
Tell me, Modern Austen, how can I still be a good friend when things aren’t going right for me? How can I stop destroying this friendship? Is it all my fault?
Thanks,
Selfish Friend
If there’s a personal matter you’d like Modern Austen’s advice on, you can send your letters to modernaustenblog@gmail.com. Please indicate whether you’re comfortable with your letter being published, & do use a clever pseudonym.
“One’s consequence you know varies so much at times without any particular reason.”
— A letter from JA to Cassandra, written 8 January 1799. In this letter, JA tells Cassandra that she was not “very much in request” at a ball.
Dear Selfish Friend,
All friendships change, even our longest & dearest ones, but that doesn’t mean they have to end. Change is part of & necessary for any relationship. Your friendship with your bestie has been changing all this time without your notice, but now you feel the difference more keenly & blame yourself for it, because you’re in a transitional period of your life. In your letter, you express a lot of anxiety about returning home & fear this means you’re sliding backwards, & your best friend, in some ways, seems to symbolize all this fear & anxiety. But this can’t be the only cause of the “rift” you feel—your friend has changed & shaped this friendship as much as you have, so stop taking all the credit. I encourage you to consider what type of friend you want to be going forward now that you’ve learned this about yourself: “I’m afraid that our friendship will only go back to normal—for me—when I feel settled.” While it’s natural to first think of your own feelings, you can’t just choose to be a friend when your life is going well. This friendship is not a story you’ve written or a play you’ve directed, & your friend is not a character you’ve created. What you & your bestie have is real, & it requires a commitment from both of you to nurture it.
At the start of your letter, you question whether your friend feels the change in your relationship.—The answer is yes. They’re acting upon whatever change there’s been in your friendship in their own way; they’re not simply following your lead. And being in the same physical location together longer than you normally would, Selfish Friend, is a greater change for your friendship than you realize. Relationships, in many ways, are easier from a distance because they are composed & managed through written messages. It takes away some of your responsibility as a friend, doesn’t it? Once you’ve written you’ve done your duty, & you can easily shape a one-sided narrative about the nature of your friendship. Now that you can be physically present with each other, there needs to be something more than words between you, something more than the narrative you tell yourself. A translation has happened, & you don’t quite know what’s been lost (or gained) in translation. The question you should ask yourself is not whether your friend feels a change as you do, but whether they’re unhappy about it. After you’ve asked yourself this question, ask your best friend.—Yes, Selfish Friend, you will have to talk to them about what you’re feeling, for if you can’t find a way to communicate when you’re together, this new version of your friendship will have no foundation.
You should be able to turn to your friend for anything, no matter how trivial or hard.—They should also be able to do the same with you. Friends don’t have to be in the same physical or metaphorical place in life. We have this strange notion that friends have to be the same people, sharing everything from social status to opinions. What would be the point of such a friendship? This question is at the heart of your letter. You’re not just asking whether your friendship is different, you want to know what friendship is, what it’s meant to be. You know what it’s not: Two people who are “friendly” catching up. I would have to agree with you. But by keeping what you’re really feeling & going through from your friend—especially when it’s something they’ve also experienced—you’re reducing your relationship to chit chat. The silences that fall between friends are fine, as they indicate how comfortable you are with each other. And so, Selfish Friend, I think you need to talk about this transitional place you’re in with your friend; it’s impacting your relationship, so they have a right to know.
I know you’re afraid of judging your friend unfairly for not wanting more (or the same things) from life as you do. We all do it; it can’t always be helped. As long as you recognize that your role as a friend is not to tell them how to live their life. In other words, don’t be like Emma Woodhouse at the start of her novel when she first makes a friend out of Harriet Smith. To Emma, Harriet is more of a project, someone in need of her services. But that is the blindness of Emma’s privilege: She occupies a position in Highbury where she has a DUTY to be of service to everyone. Only she focuses on the wrong services & tries to help people in the wrong ways. Emma believes her talent lies in matchmaking, in bringing two people to realize their feelings for each other. In Harriet’s case, Emma is more interested in remaking her.—To make Harriet the perfect companion, she must become a version of Emma. And as Miss Smith is without much sense or agency, she proves to be a willing participant in Emma’s charm school. Harriet actually does know her place in society, hence she is only too grateful for the compliment of Emma Woodhouse’s attentions. Emma only seems to see & enforce class differences when it’s convenient for her.
There shouldn’t be anything wrong with two people from different classes becoming friends;—in character, a gentleman’s daughter may not be so different from the illegitimate daughter of a wealthy tradesman. With Emma’s position comes pretensions, ones Harriet doesn’t have & only aspires to because of Emma. For in order to be friends with Emma, Harriet must reject Mr. Robert Martin’s proposal. Of course Harriet would always welcome Emma into her & Robert’s home at Abbey Mill Farm, but Emma informs Harriet that she wouldn’t be able to associate with Mrs. Harriet Martin had Robert’s proposal been accepted. I’m telling you this Selfish Friend because I want you to examine the ways your privileges are blinding you to the conditions & ultimatums you’re setting. In your mind, this friendship can’t work unless your friend is some version of you. What you’re really upset about is that your best friend resists the model you present them for how to be in the world. You haven’t found yourself a Harriet Smith! I know it can be hard to face the ways we are & are not like Emma Woodhouse, but that’s the way it is;—you’re being a bit of a snob. What’s more, you’re using this moment where you could take the opportunity to better understand what your friend is going through to distance yourself. Perhaps you have an image you feel you need to maintain for your friend, but I say have your Box Hill moment! Allow this to be your undoing, so you can become a better friend, a better person with a more profound understanding of your social obligations.
By the end of her novel, Emma didn’t just become a better friend to Harriet but the one she needed. Harriet could marry Robert Martin. Harriet didn’t have to become Emma. Emma’s Box Hill moment also made her kinder to Miss Bates & allowed her to see the value of having a friend like Jane Fairfax, a woman Emma has to admit is more accomplished despite having fewer advantages in life. And this opened a new world for Emma, making a community that was always too small for her active imagination a little bigger. Become the friend your bestie needs right now, Selfish Friend. This might mean that you see them less, it might mean that you see them more. You might have to stay silent about their life choices, or they may solicit your advice. Just let them guide you for a change.— It’s likely they have all the answers you’re seeking in your own life.
Yours
Modern Austen <3