Friends come and go. Lasting friendships are not that unusual either. There are people in my life I have known for decades. Contact can be sporadic, sustained for a time or come in a flurry. Regardless of the duration the connection between us seems as strong as ever. We pick up where we left off without effort. Shared experiences, memories, likes, beliefs and values serve as a common anchor in the ocean of time our separate lives navigate through. These are not necessarily the same people I might go to in times of need nor might I be that person for them. That’s never seemed like a good measure of friends to me. Needs are met in different ways according to cicumstance. Willing or availability does not equal capability or know how. Some friendships wane or have come to a more abrupt end. Behaviour or speech a red flag. Friendships maintained by the sunk cost fallacy or a reluctance to let go do no one justice. An occasion comes to mind when I was told I had a , “…fucking attitude problem”. We’d been friends for several years. I never heard from Gary again. I regret that. We got on well and had many good times together. That was back in the early nineties.. More recently I have been “ghosted”. The last time we spent time together I shared an upset I’d kept quiet about over the last four years. I’d been selective with the truth. I’d avoided a difficult conversation. Time had moved on. The conversation created an opening for full disclosure. To not do so at that point would have added to holding things back - to have been less than honest. My disclosure was met with accusations and blaming. Our perspectives quite predictably differed. We talked and walked things through. My friend said he did not want this to be the end of our friendship. That had never crossed my mind. We parted on what seemed like good terms. That was more than six weeks ago. My messages since then have not been acknowledged or responded to. There has been one other occasion when I have been “ghosted”. It followed a mishap while cycling together. I apologised and accepted responsibility for my part. I offered to help out with repairs. Nothing back at all. That went on for three years or so until one day out of the blue the person contacted me. Not a word from them about going incommunicado. I’ve been the type to outwardly shrug these things off. To not show or share upset. To move on. To collude if and when the time comes, on the unspoken. As it goes I have lost sleep over these things. From time to time I catch myself on mulling things over. Is it me? What have I overlooked. What have I minimised or denied? It occurs to me that blame and incrimination can be means of avoidance. To displace and project that which is uncomfortable to own and integrate. I would say that though wouldn’t I? Afterall, I’ve got a fucking attitude problem.