Today’s musings are on the subjects of friendship and self-love.
Now before you all start getting hot under the collar and needing a sub-zero shower, I’m not referring to the kind of self-love that involves a closed pair of curtains, a box of tissues and a good supply of AA batteries. No, the self-love I mean is the simple state of mind of being happy in one’s own company.
I have lots of friends. Well – what I have is lots and lots of acquaintances, and one or two friends. I don’t however, at the ripe old age of 37, have a ‘best’ friend. And you know, I don’t feel I need one?
I had a best friend for several years, but eventually our relationship went the way that most human relationships go, and we grew apart. She took her life in a direction that I didn’t want to take mine and since then, I have been The Cat That Walked Alone.
I have some fabulous friends, none better than the ones I have made in ‘the industry’. Those friends in particular have ‘been there’ for me, have picked me up, dusted me down and listened to me rant on numerous occasions. And I have other friends in my ‘real’ life, who can be relied on to supply laughter and love in equal measure. But I don’t need a best friend, someone who you do everything with – because I have me for that.
Of course the best thing about being one’s own best friend is that you can rely upon yourself to agree with you all the time, to have the same political and religious views, to want to do the same things on the same day, and it’s better to share one’s Dairy Milk with oneself than it could ever be to share it with someone else.