The friend I only see once or twice a year

And why the true measure of friendship cannot be found in longevity or frequency, but in mutual kindness, respect and generosity of spirit

Deep in the long, lazy days of Betwixtmas, where time has no meaning and there’s nothing in the cupboards except Quality Street and leftover mince pies, I left my cosy little hovel to meet a friend for lunch in a nearby village. It has become something of an annual tradition, a yearly pilgrimage that we make in the strange limbo between Christmas and New Year to catch up on each other’s lives.

I met this particular friend, let’s call her Sara, when we were both working for the same company in London back in 2017. There was a kinship between us from the very beginning; when she interviewed me, we spent the first ten minutes chatting about our memberships to English Heritage and the National Trust. Little did I know that this was the start of a very, very special friendship that has endured through some of the most challenging moments of our lives - many of which took place in the very office where we first met.

In the small team of three that I found myself in, it became abundantly clear that I was not welcome - a friendship had already been forged between the two other young women, and I was very much the odd one out. At the same time, my smiley, happy friend, whose unflinching kindness quite literally shone like a beacon of light in a very dark place, was also struggling to cope in an increasingly unfriendly environment.

Eventually, Sara was forced out of her job, and I was left reeling from what seemed to me to be a targeted campaign of hatred against her. If this brilliant, kind woman could be so ruthlessly, savagely stripped of the role that she had poured years of her life into, what might they do to a junior employee who had barely been there for six months?

It took my friend’s absence to make me realise that I needed to get out, and I needed to get out now. I hastily started applying for jobs. By mid-January, I was walking out of the office on Liverpool Street for the last time.

The relief was immediate. Luckily for me, there was one good thing that came out of that job: my friendship with Sara.

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You see, ours is not a friendship fuelled by regular coffee dates, nights out or podcast length voicenotes - no, we thrive on text messages and good thoughts that keep us connected as the years pass by. I don’t need to see Sara regularly to know that she thinks the best of me, that she wishes me well and wants to see me succeed in whatever way makes sense for me, and vice versa.

We are simply content knowing that our relationship is a constant in our lives. Sara is there, she exists, she’s thinking about me, and I, her. That’s enough for us.

I’ve learned that the true measure of friendship cannot be found solely in how long you’ve been friends, or how frequently you see each other, or the number of places or things you have experienced together. I used to think that ‘good’ friendship could only look one very specific way, as portrayed on American TV shows and films: spontaneous walks through city streets with a cupcake in one hand and a coffee in the other, fabulous cocktails in fabulous bars, sleepovers and dinners and weekends away and entire afternoons spent sitting around the same table at the same cafe putting the world to rights. Spoiler alert: none of my friendships have ever played out this way.

In fact, I hated sleepovers when I was a teenager; I don’t have the hand-eye coordination to be able to eat a cupcake gracefully while walking, and I’ve already written about why I have never gone on a girls’ holiday.

No, the metric of friendship that I resonate with most is the way I feel when I am around them, the way they speak about me in rooms that I am not in, the shared generosity of spirit that keeps us going when life gets busy or complicated.

Sara always gives me the benefit of the doubt; she thinks the best of me and never punishes me for not replying to a text or needing to reschedule a meet up. She is unfailingly supportive from afar and in the flesh when we do see each other. Sara is, simply put, as true and honest and trustworthy a friend as any other I am lucky enough to have in my life, if not more so.

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Elizabeth Day’s friendship bible Friendaholic explains the concept of ‘metrics of friendship’ far more eloquently than I ever could, but I understand it as sort of a love language for friendships, and it is incredibly helpful if you’re feeling unsure about whether you’re a quote unquote ‘good friend’ (whatever that actually means).

Ask yourself: what do I most value in my friendships? What do I need from my friends to feel connected and loved by them, and what can I give? Which forms of communication feel most nourishing for me? What do my friendships add to my life that my family/romantic relationships do not?

When we view our friendships through this lens, when we choose to accept ourselves and our friends as we are rather than trying to shape-shift into something more palatable for the benefit of others, we can be vulnerable and honest in a way that perhaps we couldn’t before.

As someone who often craves her own company, who needs time alone to recharge, I feel safe in the knowledge that the people who have stayed in my life are the ones who never begrudge me that space and time to be by myself. We understand that life gets busy, jobs and family commitments can be overwhelming, and sometimes that quick lunchtime coffee is just one more thing on an already overflowing plate. I’m not for a second suggesting that it’s OK to not make an effort with one’s friends, to never initiate a conversation or organise a meet up or whatever it is that brings joy and meaning to your friendships, but a mutual understanding of each other’s quirks and ways of being is essential.

Friendship, to me, is simply that glorious, inexplicable feeling of being known, of being seen and understood and accepted exactly as we are. If we can’t think the best of our friends even when they mess up or get it wrong, if we can’t give them the benefit of the doubt amidst the complexities of modern life, what is the point?

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Thank you so much for reading! Please do leave me a comment, if you fancy it.