I’ve always trusted my gut when it comes to people. If I don’t like a person at the first meeting, he/she
would likely always turns out to be an ass. Even at a young age, I’ve learned to keep my circle of friends small—I’ve never had to work for a friendship and I think it’s such a horrible concept (e.g., fraternities).
I remember being in an out-of-town press junket once, my companions so obnoxious that it made me place a late-night phone call to Pam, my editor and friend, bemoaning the assignment. (Their conversations revolved around who was the prettiest and who knows who.) The four of them were already friends, leaving me and another reporter the odd man/woman out.
“I’m glad I don’t need to be friends with them,” I told my fellow outlier the next morning. She could only sigh; being new, she said she’d most likely need to fawn over their clique and other similar types to get a foot in in the industry.
I’ve met quite a number of dates, gay and in the closet, who admit to having no real friends. That’s truly heartbreaking: one cannot choose his family but one hopes friends could make up for it. However, I refused to continue seeing said guys because as that Alanis Morissette song goes, “I’m not the doctor.”
I’m afraid of people who can’t keep friends.
Along the way, there had been some pruning, some in the form of mutual silences, and others made with the click of a button. A friend should owe you no money: it’s either he promises to pay and actually does it or you freely give it to him without consequence.
At present, I am secure in the belief that I am surrounded by the best people. My friends are genuinely nice, even if taken out of context, our group appears to be racist, sexist, and bullies. 😛 They are extremely good at what they do—not only at work, but in rallying people to a cause, or in quieter moments, in lending parts of their lives.