Three Kinds of Friendship

I had been meaning to write a column about friendship at the time of my recent conversation with my friend, Jeffrey (see “What Really Matters,” Oct. 30, 2012). That conversation - about what really matters at the end of life - opened the door for me to this heretofore elusive topic. If relationship, as I believe, is at the heart of life’s meaning, what is the role of friendship?

I would propose that we apply the term friendship too loosely in our culture. At its broadest reach, it encompasses three different types - casual, opportunistic and intimate. Of these, only intimate contributes to “what really matters.”

Let’s begin with casual - or non-intimate - friendships. These are relationships that, by their nature, are designed to be episodic, entertaining and non-invested - in the nature, “time fillers.” These are the people with whom you share your time, but not yourself. You may meet a casual friend at a party or some other occasion. You have a good time and, consequently, decide to get together again to replicate the experience. You exchange fundamental personal information - generally your “narrative” (the story you tell yourself and others about yourself) - but little more. You understand that the relationship may remain only ephemeral.

These friendships are more like “entertainment exchanges.” Each of you is there to be “serviced” by the other’s company. Missing from the relationship are all the elements that make an intimate relationship “intimate.” Granted, it is more “intimate” than engaging, on screen, a movie or television character, which in many respects the relationship emulates. But from the viewpoint of relationship, there is not a wide margin of difference. There is no “glue” binding the relationship. It either must evolve into something of greater substance or fall apart once the novelty wears off.

Opportunistic, or “transactional,” relationships are usually more complex and enduring than casual relationships. Because of this, many of us are led to believe that these relationships are more meaningful than actually is the case. These relationships generally arise from and are nurtured by a particular shared environment - workplace, team sport, kids’ activities or schools, professional or community organizations, and the like. As long as you share that environment, there is sufficient commonality of experience upon which to sustain relationship. And as shared experience extends over a period of years, you go beyond the exchange of narratives. You begin to share more of yourself, your emotions and your hopes and dreams, because it feels “safe” to do so. You have, through your shared experience, developed rudimentary trust.

Evolutionary psychologist Robert Wright describes in his book, “The Moral Animal: Why We Are The Way We Are,” the theory of reciprocal altruism, a rather disquieting, evolutionary theory explaining why and for what purpose human friendships arise and are sustained. Wright relates the survival strategies of kin selection (preserving a stream of genetic coding) to reciprocal altruism as “two phases in evolution, almost as a single creative thrust, in which natural selection crafted an ever expanding web of affection, obligation and trust, out of ruthless genetic self interest.”

According to Wright, “the daily life of every human society rests not just on reciprocity, but on a common foundation of feelings - simply, gratitude, affection, obligation, guilt, dislike and so on.” What is the explanation for this commonality? Conditional niceness leads to better evolutionary outcomes than conditional meanness. I share Wright’s view that “some people are troubled by the idea that their noblest impulses spring from their genes’ wildest ploys.” I admit to being one of those disquieted. But I regrettably have witnessed in my hospice work and elsewhere that some of our longest term friendships are essentially opportunistic. While built upon common experience and an accumulated body of shared knowledge, such relationships fundamentally have little to support them once the shared environment and common experience cease to exist.

The overwhelming majority of those we call “friends” fall into the casual or opportunistic categories. That is not necessarily bad. Members of either category may ultimately evolve into intimates. They also may support us in our daily endeavors, supplying entertainment, information, collaboration or emotional sustenance. But they have their limitations and require a more conscious approach of care and feeding.

In my discussion with Jeffrey, I found the litmus for defining an intimate friendship for me arises from an answer to the following, perhaps peculiar, question: “Who, at the end of your life, will be at your bedside that you want to be there?”

At the end of life, at a time when human connection and relationship are most precious, there often is tremendous fear and uncertainty in both the person dying and the friend. To sit with another at the end of life requires great generosity, simply to be present for whatever transpires. A friend who so appears is, by definition, intimate. At its heart, intimate friendship is generosity in action. It is selfless. It is in the nature of two beings co-joined as one.

At the end of life, there often is little to be discussed, but a great deal connecting to experience. That means putting away fear, not judging the experience, trusting in the relationship, and being fully available to the other.

Notice that none of this requires vast amounts of shared experience or a deep well of personal information. While shared experience can build intimacy, it is not a necessary precondition. Intimacy is a shared state of being, not necessarily of doing. Intimate friends can arise almost spontaneously, bringing generosity and trust as part of the initial offering.

When there is no time to be filled, no entertaining to be done, there is no meaning in casual friendships. When life’s transactions near the end, reciprocation becomes meaningless. Opportunism becomes irrelevant. And, so it goes with opportunistic friendships.

Only intimacy survives to the final breath. None of this is to say that you should abandon your casual and opportunistic friendships. But it does suggest that, in the precious time available to you in your life, you mark the distinctions, weigh the relative values, and invest in friendships accordingly.

For a period of months, I’ve been asking others about their intimate friends. How many could they count? Where were they? How current were they in keeping these relationships? Just to confirm how precious these relationships are, you should know that most with whom I have spoken generally can count to no more than five intimates. Remarkably, most intimates are not geographically proximate. And, while these friends may not be the most current in the detail of their intimates’ lives, they are current “enough.” When these intimates gather, it’s as if they have never been apart. The next conversation picks up from the last. It is less about what is said than what is felt - a sense of wholeness, joy and peace.

Since, you never know when you will reach life’s end and  relationship is what really matters, perhaps it is time to take stock of your intimates, to offer them your generosity, and to relish the joy of their friendship.