There have been a few blogs written lately about what it means to be a best friend. Jenny, for example, feels that a best friend is one who would help you move a body, should the need arise. While, yes, this is true, it got me thinking.
If I had a body that needed moving, the first person I would call would be my mom. While my friends would help me, they would also have five hundred questions. My mom would show up, no questions asked, help me the best she could, and be a total cheerleader. “Dig faster! You can do it!”
My dad would also be very supportive, but he is a little squeamish. So if I showed him a body he would probably pass out. And then I would have to move two bodies. So I would be right back to calling my mom. Why complicate things?
If, for whatever reason, my mother was unavailable, then I started making a list of friends who would help. Or who I would trust to help. Only three names came up.
Which got me thinking about friendship overall. I have not made any friends in the last decade or so. I don’t mean that I don’t have friends, but I haven’t made any new ones. All the people I consider my friends (even beyond the three who make the body-moving list) I have known forever. Sure, I have met people, made friendships and acquaintances. I go out with them for coffee every few months, maybe lunch or something. But when it comes to moving bodies, or serving as alibis, they don’t make the list.
And of the three who do make the cut, two happen to be married to each other, and live half way across the country. So unless said body moving is happening around the holidays or summer vacations, I am really just down to one person. And she currently can’t lift heavy things. Or perform any kind of strenuous work, such as digging or pushing.
Therefore, by process of elimination, and my superior deductive skills, it can be surmised that I have no friends. Clearly I should quit my day job and become a detective.