Mortimer George Creations

Making friends.  As simple as it sounds I’m not good at it.

I have the ability to make warm introductions.  I make eye contact and crack a joke or two that are completely off the cuff and quite impressive if I might say so myself.  I speak about any sport with intelligent SportsCenter type insight.   After a few hearty belly laughs and another firm manly handshake, names are exchanged.  Usually, I say my last name then a combination of my first and last name.  I always follow this James Bond pattern of ultimate coolness.  After we exchange the usual, “pleasure to meet you” and a few more male grunts and high-fives,  we walk our separate ways.  At this very moment my ability to make friends becomes dicey.  It seems I walk away in slow motion and my mind goes into a coma.  For the life of me I can not remember his name.  It is completely erased from my memory bank.  The bank is now closed.  Like 007 I go to the next episode.

From this point on my ability to close the deal on a new friend is fully consumed with my inability to remember his name.  The awkwardness is resolved by avoiding him.  This has happened too many times.  Is it a problem?  Did I want to be friends in the first place? Maybe I’ve been an introvert for so long that I’ve put up an internal warning system that shuts down my memory when confronted with the possibility of being a friend. As a self-proclaimed renaissance man, one would think I’d remember everyone’s name, their children’s name and their wife or girlfriend’s name but I simply do not.

So I’m pretty bad at remembering names but I’m even worse at building a relationship with those men already in my small circle of “friends”.  I have more female friends and they are really not “close” friends; they’re hoping, acquaintances.  Rarely do I reach out to male friends and just talk and share.  I’m not sure if a man is supposed to do that kind of thing?  Actually I know we should, but I don’t.  When I do have a conversation with one of my male friends it ends up being quite inspiring, bonding, funny and an overall great time.  It’s just very few and far-between. In the last year, this has happened two times and those were during moments of desperation. How I was raised, where I was raised and when I was raised may have a lot to do with this.  It’s a cross between old-school male (lack of) bonding, being more comfortable around females, and internalizing all my thoughts and emotions; secrets.  This has left me empty.  Mary, my best friend has questioned why I’m my own self’s best friend.  She thinks I should have many more male friends.

Mary (name changed in case she is in the process of becoming your best friend) can write a book on making friends, keeping friends and ensuring the relationship continues to blossom into one where they confide in each other, cry together, laugh together, and fly across the globe to do friend “things” together.  In fact, I’ve tried to encourage her to write a book about how to make and keep quality friends.  I picture her on Oprah talking about her book and then after the show, hanging out with Oprah, becoming Facebook friends, sharing cell phone numbers and email addresses.  Then a month or so later planning a rendezvous with Oprah to take in a show, go on a hike, and share secret family stories about Stedman.  Are women just better than men at this?

Mostly, unlike 007, I want her to write the book so that I can learn to be this type of friend.