When I asked my friend Sarah for a ride to the airport at 6 a.m. one August morning, she responded with enthusiasm, “Of course, I’d love to!” She even offered to help me search for a new home, claiming it would be “fun.” Despite a past experience where a troubled individual broke into my car during a previous trip to Manhattan, most of my friends, including my mother, declined my request for someone to look after my car while I was in New York for my father’s cancer treatments. Only one person stepped up—Lisa. “Sure, I can do that!” she said, and I felt a wave of relief wash over me. I offered to make it easier by bringing snacks and reading materials, but she replied, “That’s alright; I’ll just enjoy watching the people go by. It’ll be fun.”
As we approach our 40s and beyond, I find that we start to distinguish between those who are dependable and those who are simply entertaining. My more flamboyant friends captivate me, but I’ve grown to appreciate those who are willing to help with the little things—like driving me to the mechanic or keeping their promises. When I needed quotes for a graduate school project on the New York Doll Hospital, five hours from home, Lisa bravely confronted her shyness and approached customers on her way home from work to gather their feedback.
Lisa may be reserved, causing many to overlook the spark I’ve known for over three decades. She’s an accomplished cook, a belly dancer, and an adventurous traveler, always eager to try something new. Yet, she doesn’t radiate the same brilliance as my college friend “Maya.” Everyone who met Maya was enchanted by her beauty, talent, and intellect. However, once we left school, I found myself making all the plans and maintaining our friendship. When I stopped reaching out, so did she.
I wouldn’t trade Rachel for a thousand stunning Mayas. Rachel agreed to join me for a concert, even though she wouldn’t recognize a single song by the band. The only concern was my fear of crowds and bats, likely to be present at the concert venue that summer night. Rachel assured me that if I felt uneasy, I could just look at her, and we would leave without any questions. Whereas Maya is a classic masterpiece, Rachel is like a collection of warm hugs.
This isn’t to say that my steadier friends lack intrigue. They’re just as intelligent and entertaining, but they shine in a different way. I know I can turn to Rachel, Sarah, Lisa (as well as other friends like Jenna and Kim) for anything. They’re the essential building blocks of my support system, while Maya represents the spice in life. Spice is delightful in moderation, but it isn’t the foundation on which to build lasting friendships.
Many of the friends I had in my youth were more about excitement than depth. A few years back, for example, I met “Diana,” whose charm and intensity drew me in immediately. For weeks, we were inseparable, until she abruptly distanced herself from me for reasons I never understood. Now, when a new friendship arises, I remind myself of the saying that things that heat up quickly tend to cool down just as fast.
My romantic preferences are shifting too. In my younger years, I was inexplicably attracted to brooding types. No disrespect to my devoted husband, who is both kind and artistically talented, but if given the chance, I might now prefer the “steady Eddies” who are more comfortable with practical tasks than writing poetry. If I could meet my 17-year-old self, I’d warn her against those troubled artists, whose melancholy can become tiresome. These days, I’d rather watch someone fix a sink than listen to them lament about the world’s injustices.
In my teens and twenties, I was surrounded by many shooting stars—friends who dazzled briefly and then faded away. Now, my ideal friends embody qualities reminiscent of the Boy Scout law: trustworthy, loyal, kind, and helpful. While I don’t approach friendships with a transactional mindset, I do appreciate those who go beyond mere companionship. They are the ones who genuinely show up when it matters, unlike those who are only present temporarily.
For those navigating their journeys of parenthood, understanding the importance of reliable friendships can be invaluable. If you’re interested in exploring ways to enhance your family planning journey, check out this post on couples’ fertility experiences. And for anyone looking to understand the impact of alcohol on fertility, this resource offers some critical insights.
In summary, as we grow older, our friendships can evolve from being purely about excitement to focusing on reliability and support. I’ve come to cherish my dependable friends—those who are there for me when it matters most, rather than fleeting companions who fade away.