Tempered Fragility

I arranged to spend some time with a friend yesterday.

The plan was simple; he’d come over, we’d watch some DVD’s and then I’d drive him home after dinner. Problem is, he never arrived. I called him at about 7pm, to ask what was going on, and he sheepishly informed me that he’d only just woken up. He was at his parent’s house, he said.

I waited, but there was only silence.

No apology for sleeping all day, despite the fact that we had plans. Not even a token ’sorry’. No answer when I asked whether he had been planning to call. Nothing. The silence annoyed me the most. It’s always annoyed me, his inability to communicate, his unwillingness to discuss things.

I have no right to his time or attention, and I shouldn’t be surprised; it’s not the first time he’s failed to show up. As far as I’m concerned, though, I have the right to be annoyed. When he called me after dinner, to ask how I was, I told him. He asked whether I was still pissed off, and then laughed.

Yes, I am still annoyed. Anything else you want to talk about?

But of course, there wasn’t. There never is. I do the talking; I start the conversations and push them along and I find things to fill the gaps. It frustrates me. It always has. Sometimes I wonder if he doesn’t talk because he doesn’t care, or isn’t interested. He assures me that isn’t the case, but still. I wonder.

I know that I’ll get over this. We’re friends; shit happens. I’ll forgive him and move on, until the next time it happens. I’ll be frustrated, and disappointed, and a little pissed off, but I’ll get over it. He’ll probably read this and be insulted, indignant even. He’ll get over it, too.

And so it goes.