Thursday, November 12, 2009


To be honest intimacy is not something I think about in my working relationships. All of my romantic entanglements have ended before I got to that point of openness. My friendships have been more successful, but even then there is always a fence between me and anyone else. It is difficult for me to imagine a relationship, rather a human relationship with true intimacy. I know me sharing all my secrets with my favorite feline or age inappropriate Harry Potter journal does not necessarily count as neither can reciprocate. Having to identify any relationship as one where I engaged in the on going process where I and another caring person shared as freely as possible is near impossible. I can only think of two instances where I was close to real intimacy and only one where both parties participated.
My friendship with Ari started back in high school; We acted in our school's first drama club production together. Working on a drama production brings people close naturally but working on one in our newly renovated and still frighteningly coffin like theater made everyone stick together. Our friendship sprouted innocuously and unbeknown to either party, however soon we had become "BFFs" as we often recall jokingly.
As teenagers do, we shared things with each other. In the beginning they where small gossips, snarky thoughts and other trivialities. As time past our relationship strengthened and I began trust that my secrets where safe with her, so much so that when something of importance happened I knew that I could entrust her with my deeper and truer emotions.
Like most teenagers I had the "worst mom ever" who "never let me do anything" and "still treats me like a little kid". Like most teenagers these typical statements and behavior where indicative of other, more emotional, needs that where not being met. One day after a particularly vicious fight with my mother I went to visit Ari just get my mind off my current situation. Instead I spent the next few hours emotionally vomiting years of pent up emotions. For hours she sat listening intently and held my hand as I wept and used all the tissues in her house to wipe my seemingly endless stream of mucous from my nose. Kept thinking the entire time that I must seem crazy and that should stop embarrassing myself, but there was something that told me to continue.
At the end of "snotapaloooza" I still felt like this would make her not want be my friend and that she was going to laugh at me. All she said was "Do you feel better?"; I did feel better and I felt safe and secure and able to tell her anything without fear of judgment, exclusion or isolation. At the time I knew and I still recognize this as the moment in which we became true friends.
As of now, we have been friends for six years. Over those years I have cried on her shoulder several more times and she has used my shoulders to help her bare her own emotional burdens.
We have shared more than just the bad times. We have sat many late nights on the phone or on the couch over ice cream sharing stories, thought, hope, fears, dreams, aspiration, affirmations, advice, recipes and anything else that popped into our heads. I do cherish her friendship, rather companionship and recognize that our level of intimacy has allowed us to stay so close with each other.
Now that I have spilled all that in your lap you probably think you know me. However you would shocked to know that it was easier than you think. I don't know if I could count this relationship as a intimate one. As I said my journal entries don't count and though a sophisticated personal computer is a more age appropriate that my Harry Potter diary the effect is still the same.

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