Before the 2024 election, I met a good friend for breakfast at First Watch. We both had a blueberry pancake because he was craving one; I copied him because when I dine with a friend, I’m usually too nervous to eat. After his Bloody Mary and my coffee, our conversation turned to politics and the upcoming election.
Both of us were struggling with the fact that Donald Trump was once again a candidate. In our naiveté due to the liberal-minded bubble in which we had been enjoying ignorant bliss, we felt a bit of hope that there was no way a convicted criminal (the least of his evils) would become president. We agreed the other candidate was not the strongest, but with decency on her side, the election seemed like a no-brainer. It might be tight, but in the end voters, would choose the female candidate.
I complained to my friend that many of my acquaintances in the social media world were already making plans for their escape if Trump won. I was disheartened by this news and pointed out that all of the people who were saying this were those with the most political capital. They were white, comfortably upper-middle class, had an influential circle of friends, and were unlikely to be affected by any of the bad policy coming down the pike. They were generally, from what I could tell, good people. I felt their decision—to abandon those of us who felt we could not or would not leave—was selfish. Oops.
My misstep
At the time, my friend seemed puzzled by my comment, but unperterbed. He pointed out that was their decision to make, and there was no reason they could not be politically involved as an ex-pat. They would still be US citizens and as such could still vote no matter where they were living. I persisted by suggesting that once one “escapes,” one may be less interested in the well-being of folks back home, especially those with targets on their backs—the poor, people of color, the LGBTQ community, child-bearing women, etc. We need those people here! He hinted, that he and his partner might consider leaving if things got bad enough.
At that point, we moved on to other topics, which included an invite to a dinner party the following week. I gladly accepted.
The dinner party
There were seven of us. Three of his guests I knew slightly, which made me a little nervous (I’m an introvert), but they were good company. Smart, politically engaged, and comfortable in social settings. Nice people. I, on the other hand, struggle with making small talk, holding my own in animated conversation, and coming up with an intelligent response when asked a direct question. These situations aren’t my “thing,” but because everyone else (including my husband) were talking so much, I didn’t have to say much, until…
“I was having breakfast with Susan the other day, and she said that [partner’s name] and I would be selfish if we decided to move to another country after the election if Trump won. You called me selfish, didn’t you?”, he said as he smiled in my direction. The comment was made in a light-hearted manner, and I tried to respond light-heartedly as well. “I guess I did say that,” and went on to share my reasoning with the others, who listened without comment. I sensed no hostility, no one argued, the conversation moved on. Our host’s sister, who recently moved from out of state to be closer to her brother, commented that she didn’t want him to move; she would miss him. Did I say, “I would too.” If not, I should have.
After that party, I sent a thank-you note for the food and company, and expressed how much I valued our friendship. At least I think I included that last part. If I didn’t I should have.
Coming to my senses or overthinking?
Seeing how the results of the election are not what we wanted or expected, and seeing how badly things are going in our country, I’ve been dealing with my own reckoning; judging myself and my character, questioning my “identity”, and realizing I may not be as likable as I thought. I decided that I don’t know myself well at all. Maybe I’m not very smart or well informed or approachable. Maybe I give off strange vibes that some find appealing, but others may find weird. Maybe I have been to comfortable in my old age, thinking that after 74 years I should be able to do or say what I want as long as I was honest and kind. I had for too long been overly concerned with “how I came across,” or what people really thought of me. I it was time to relax, to quit being worried about other people’s opinions. Instead, I’m confused.
My friend and I had never been in touch regularly, did not travel in the same social circles, and rarely saw each other in person. We met through work, but enjoyed social outings now and then. That was years ago, however. Despite not being in frequent contact, it did not change—in my mind—our friendship, which I always valued. My friend is someone I deeply respect and admire for his convictions and his ease in setting boundaries with people. He has always “marched to his own drummer” as he used to say.
During one of our conversations a few years ago (before Covid), he mentioned that he had told a couple of friends that he no longer wanted to be part of their lives and did not want them in his life. They no longer gave him joy; he was not uplifted by their presence. Wow, I thought. Not many people are capable of being that honest; most of us would just never respond to their efforts to connect and hope these unwanted friends would take the hint and go away. My friend is someone who will be honest with you, whether or not you asked for his opinion. I love that about him.
Now I’m wondering if I have fallen into the circle of people he never wants to see again. On the other hand, knowing how easily my friend sets boundaries, wouldn’t he tell me that my comment was offensive and unforgivable; that I should disappear from his life? My mind goes in circles without resolving anything.
After many middle-of-the-night ruminations about this situation. I decided I would call him. I had heard that before you call someone as one did in the old days, you have to text them to ask if you can call, or give them some kind of notice that you will soon be calling them. So, I did that, letting him know I wanted to catch up and to let me know when it would be convenient for us to chat. This was just over a week ago. I continue to wait. What next?
I have vowed not to fall back on my usual tactic of sending a card instead of having a conversation. I’m a much better writer than speaker, so I’m more comfortable writing down my thoughts instead of stumbling through a potentially awkward conversation. I also hate talking on the phone since I can't see someone’s face and may misinterpret the tone of their voice or a hesitation before responding to a comment. Did I mention I overthink the smallest thing? That said, I want to be my best self—to be a person I respect. I want to do the right thing—apologize most of all and find out for sure if I have hurt our friendship. I want to tell him, how much I respect him, and how important he is to me. Can I do that?
There is only one way to find out. I’ll let you know how it goes.
So I mentioned my personal reckoning, my doubts about my identity, but I did not mention my search for truth, or at least certainty. Learning there are beliefs and truths, learning it is important to know which is which, and it’s important to understand and accept that certainty, if it exists at all, is rare. Perhaps it is just a construct of our mind to help us feel secure, to help us function in a reality that is slippery, random, and serendipitous.
Relevant to this post, the truth is that people should flee the country if they wish, that people have to protect their sanity in any decent way possible, that, ultimately, we are all on our very own path, not to be judged by someone on a different path.
“You can always tell a real friend: When you’ve made a fool of yourself he doesn’t feel you’ve done a permanent job.” - Laurence J. Peter