The courtship of new friends is a process I was not always comfortable with. As I’ve grown older I’ve come to appreciate the craft and even enjoy it. The shameless familiarity and willingness to put yourself out there again and again, the persistence required by adults to weasle into their busy schedules is no small thing. 

For a long time I’ve always had a few friends on the back burner, bubbling away with texts and memes and delayed plans. A few flowered into friendships, a few languished, but there were always some cooking. 

There aren’t right now. 

I’ve essentially given up on new friends. I just don’t have the time. I’ve already got loads of friends, I’ve got to maintain them, and I’m barely doing that. 

I suppose I’d feel lonely if I had a spare moment not occupied by woodworking, work, roby, or whatever the hell else it is I do. I’m not complaining, I actually feel quite fulfilled, like I’ve arrived at the state I’m somehow meant ot be in. It just occured to me that those little nudges I had been keeping up with for years had tapered off. 

It’s like when you’ve got a dog in the summer. Every few minutes you check in: where are they? What’re they doing? Are they in the road? There’s a little clock in the back of your mind and every time it rolls over you get eyes on the dingus. The fact that that clock doesn’t go away right away is one of the first things that stuck with me when my dog Mouser died. 

You’re struck again and again by the desire to check in on that dog, and you can’t anymore. That’s a bit more somber than I meant to get, but it’s related. Just because I don’t have the time to foster new friends, doesn’t meant I’ve lost the inclination, it was trained into me for years, and now it’s useless, but still kinda itchy.