THE BROKE UP

When men break up as friends.



I just received a book in the mail entitled The Friend Who Got Away, Twenty Women's True-Life Tales of Friendships That Blew Up, Burned Up, or Faded Up. I got the book for free from its publisher Doubleday, who for some odd reason sends me a great deal of Chick Lit-centric books (The J.A.P. Chronicles anyone?). When Shana saw the fluorescent orange cover, she picked it up immediately and said, I totally know what that's like. And immediately began leafing through it, fascinated, almost salivating at the prospect of commiserating with other friendship dumpers.

It turns out that women have break-ups all the time. Not the sort of break-up that ends with a hopeful but insincere let's be friends or the almost-jokish it's not you, it's me excuse. Oh, no. These sort of break-ups are always passionate, are never taken lightly and almost never, ever happen without fireworks. Women usually break-up because they simply have no other choice. They must. I'm sure you understand. And if you dont, well then, you can go to hell too.

It's assumed that only women go through a friendship break-up. In fact, I have spent a reasonable amount of time researching this on the web and have yet to find anything about men breaking up with men as friends. It almost seems as the collapse of the Dude Bond (there is no stronger) has and will not ever happen in the real world. Sure, a girl can tell her girlfriend off but could a guy eliminate one of his boyfriends...err, ahem, uhh, dudes from his social circle? It didn't seem that we did such a thing. Is it possible that no one clearly acknowledges the circumcision of the male friendship, or rather, the broke up? If so, that makes me feel pretty alone because I'm pretty sure I'm going through one now.

We used to speak a few times a day, casual conversations sharing the minutiae of the every day. I spoke with my male best friend probably more often than I spoke to my mother. There was a general impression that we could share anything with each other and never risk our masculinity. We could talk about clothing sales, movies, a new record, the most recent New Yorker, stuff, and things. We hardly ran out of things to say. It was a blessed friendship because we both brought our distinct talents to the table. But over the past couple of years, there have been problems and complications involving our communication, more his fault that mine (although, he repeatedly and wrongfully spread the blame). Suddenly, he had more on his plate to deal with and our daily, multiple conversations became every few days, then a couple of times a week, and then twice, maybe three times a month. All the while, our bond deteriorated into a shaky foundation of a fading friendship that resembled a pen-pal correspondence with a child from a third world country, hearing something along the lines of "sorry you have not heard from me sooner. Mail leaves my country so rarely." I grew progressively frustrated with all of this. He was frustrated with my frustrations. I resented myself for feeling needy. He resented my being needy. I felt neglected and manipulated into thinking I was being needy when all I asked for was a basic and sincere friendship. He wanted me to "just stop it." Eventually, I found that I needed out. My maintanence didn't seem that high. But two weeks ago, he yelled at me on the phone for something that was, ultimately, completely silly. I held the phone to my ear listening to him go on and on, barely uttering a response, all the while, thinking, maybe this is all over. Maybe I don't want to be in this anymore.

I asked a few friends of mine (all male) if they shared a similar predicament. Every one said "yes." So much for the unrelatable experience. Noah revealed that it happened to him twice. He got dumped but also on another occasion, he did the dumping.
"I just came to the realization that this guy was an a**hole," Noah said about an ex-close friend. Or rather, an ex-bud.
"I sent him an email saying that I cared about him as a friend and that there were certain things I felt he was unaware of and I wanted to shed light on them.
"He wrote back "thanks,"" Noah continued, "and that was the end of it."

Nick had his own break-up who would eventually refuse to speak to Nick ever again (something about playing music too loud). In fact, Nick just passed the estranged friend in the street for the first time in over a year and apparently he's not over being dumped. The ex-friend pretended to not even notice Nick as they walked right past each other. "Being someone's friend shouldn't be work," Nick said, "and it got to be work to keep it up."

Another friend, John, is the one who I least expected a break-up story from but surprisingly, he had one. "I was hanging out with this guy for an extended period of time," John told me. John is a man's-man. Lest you think the male friendship break-up is more inclined to happen to the sensitive guy, John loves women and takes every opportunity to announce this fact. Moreover, he is built like a club bouncer. "I decided the guy was an immature bully and a prick so I'm minimizing my interactions with him."
So, you're not dumping him outright, I asked.
"Well, if he doesn't get the hint, I'm going to have to pull out some line about seeing other people. But in the meantime, I'm phasing him out."

Breaking up is hard to do but breaking up with a guy who had been a close friend for a long time is even harder. A few guys I spoke with told me they avoid the conversation all together and would prefer to have the friendship peter out like a tank of gas. But if there's one thing I've learned from all of this is that friendship is always a give-and-take (not a profound assesment). As long as there is an equal distribution of high-fives by both parties all should be well. But as soon as that becomes unequal leaning to one side, there needs to be a resolution.

"I spent so much time and energy trying to make my friendship work," Adam told me. He grew up with this best friend, spent years with him, and even their families were best friends. This made his scenario even more complex. "But after a year or two, it was like knocking my head against the wall. Enough was enough. So I dropped the axe."

My axe hasn't dropped yet, but I'll put it this way; It's being sharpened just in case.