Is friendship (specifically in older life) just a myth?
As I grow older, I find myself pondering the intricacies of my relationships. During our youthful, formative years, making friends seems effortless. Bonds form naturally, and each connection feels truly unique. However, with age comes the realization that many of these relationships are founded on different grounds.
When asked about friends, I often jest that I don’t have friends; I have acquaintances. In casual conversations, I may refer to someone as my friend, but in reality, can I call them up for a spontaneous drink? Perhaps, but they might perceive it as unusual.
My Facebook friend count stands at nearly 2000, largely due to my profession. However, these connections on Facebook may not necessarily be people I truly know. If asked how many of them are genuine friends, I hesitate to quantify it, for the number would likely disturb me. At 50 years old, my life has been marked by constant movement. From the age of 21 to 40, I never resided in the same place for more than a couple of years. Most of the friends I made during that period predate the era of Facebook, and consequently, they have faded from my life.