In my mind, a friend is someone I can share with. Ideas, laughs, food, drink, troubles, knowing looks, silence etc.
For that, you need to want to share.
I like running, I asked a lady from my running club who I noticed lived near me, if she’d be up for a run first thing in the morning before work sometimes. For safety mainly, for company and for that much needed kick up the arse when it’s 5.45 and the last thing you want is to get out of bed. She agreed, it’s been about 5 years since we’re running once a week at stupid o’clock. She’s a close friend, we talk about anything. I feed her cats when she goes on holiday, we bring each other little presents from our travels and she knows where my spare key is.
At the same time, I asked a colleague who was complaining about safety/motivation on her runs, if she’d like to run together. I’ve known her 20 years, we get on well. She looked horrified: no, I like running on my own. No biggie, I left the invite open. Then I remembered over the years she’s always complained about not having any friends, quite bitterly when she had a health problem. I also remember her coming year after year to my DD’s birthday with her similar age child, but not once returning the invite, not even for a play date. I remember her not wanting to support one of our colleagues’ debut in a play, ‘it will be cringy’, and bitterly complaining how nobody supported her in one of her endeavours.
So…