It’s strange, the things we’re taught should go unspoken. Like the good feelings we have about our friends and our loved-ones. Stranger still that when we do break through to say those things, the session of being candid becomes something that we don’t speak about after the fact: when a brutally honest, brutally candid, brutally sober instance of taking a friend aside and reminding him or her how important s/he is to me, and how much I enjoy and even depend on the relationship occurs, it’s almost embarrassing to call up the memory later, much less reminisce openly about it.
The resulting silences, when measured against the sheer noise of the negativity that rains down upon us all the time, would suggest that those instances of positivity are rare.
For me, they simply aren’t. Many of my friends remind me, bluntly or in more nuanced ways, that they are happy I am around, that I am their friends. My sense of abundance, as I have referred to it priorly, demands that I burden my friends and family with my feelings in kind, or just as often, that I get the ball rolling.
My friend, Dominic, is a rare bird (and a dirrrdy bird, but that’s another story). He and I are a perverse and, dammit, QUEER, pair. Honesty runs rampant between us; candor has its say. It’s a beautiful thing; he’s a beautiful thing.
This is us at Pink Saturday (our Saturday-night-before-Pride party)…
So do me a favor….go grab a friend (figuratively and literally, if you must/want), and tell that person how amazed and lucky you are to have him/her in your life.