Left to my own devices

Ashley & I drove to St. Louis on Friday April 3rd, to attend a book talk that evening. It was being put on by The Novel Neighbor (a pretty awesome independent bookstore in Webster Groves), and was held at the Keating Center for the Performing Arts. The book being discussed was  Who Needs Friends ? Or, to cite its full title: Who Needs Friends? An Unscientific Examination of Male Friendship Across America . The author, Andrew McCarthy, was there on-stage to discuss his book for about an hour, and then he signed autographs and took pictures (ahem). And yes, those of you of a certain age may recognize the name and the appearance as THE Andrew McCarthy, an actor who is probably most well known for his work on popular 1980s movies such as St. Elmo's Fire, Pretty in Pink , and Weekend at Bernie's . It was an interesting talk. As you might surmise, the book is about male friendships. and McCarthy has stated that it was kicked-off by his then-21-year-old son asking him if he had ...

I recently mentioned to an acquaintance (I am not using the word "friend" here, as the reason will soon be evident) that I was thinking of deleting my Facebook account (again). There wasn't one, specific reason for this, more so an accumulation of... dissatisfaction. Interactions (or lack thereof) on that particular social media platform have felt hollow for some time. And the Zuckerberg app, more than other outlets, tends to bring out the worst in my emotions for some reason. "But how will I know what's going on with you?" the person asked. And there's the rub. This person has my phone number. They can call or text at any time, yet never do. In truth, they rarely interact with me on Facebook, yet I know they see what I put up there because they report back to various people some of the stuff I post. So it goes. At any rate, I reminded them of how they have my phone number. We'll see if they ever reach out.

"You can't be in love with someone if they don't love you back." My friend Jake said those words to me one night in the late '90s. I was at his house and we were, for whatever reason, waxing poetic about love and relationships. Actually, I do know the reason. I was besotted with a guy at the time, and mentioned, in brief passing, that I was in love with him. Jake caught the turn of phrase and felt the need to correct it. He knew the person in question, and knew that the feelings I held were not reciprocated. Jake didn't explain his comment too deeply (he wasn't really one for such conversations in the first place), but I'll always remember his remark because it stopped me in my tracks. For a time, I'd bristle at the memory of those words but, as the years have gone on, I've come to realize he may have been right. There is, after all, a difference between loving someone, and being in love with them. And love, in and of itself, has many meanings.