A Simple Idea on How to Make Friends

I’m one of those hopeless romantics who believes that every human being out there is a friend (maybe even a dear friend) waiting to happen.

That energy for people usually breeds goodwill.
(Usually. Nobody’s perfect.)

This spirit for relationship (and a whole lot of generosity on the part of others) has landed me some classic lifelong friendships–the kind that are so much larger than life that they seem to have wandered out of a scene from a good work of literature or a well made indie film.

Not everyone becomes a bestie of course. (Thank God, since I’m secretly fiercely opposed to the word bestie.)

Along the way, I’ve also acquired a ten mile long list of quirky stories about great one time encounters with strangers. We happened to be waiting out delays at airports or jogging around the local middle school track at the same time.

(Have I ever, for example, mentioned Simeon, the safari-raised South African who does the Gordon Ramsay bit with hotels? He makes my point all on his own.)

Years later, some of these acquaintances even maintain a connection to me in “places” like Facebook and Twitter. You may think that’s trite. Or shallow. And compared to real world, everyday living and loving, it is.

But I think it’s a precious cultural acknowledgement that we once sat face to face in a world we’ll go on sharing even though we’ll probably never cross paths again.

It’s a small, digital tribute that those few minutes of life meant something. That in friendship and stranger-ship, pieces of goodwill are exchanged and appreciated in all of it.

One thing that has fostered some of these unexpected friendships and lessened the awkward-ness of more than one potentially torturous waiting room conversation is my belief that there is always a common denominator between two people.

True, not everyone’s life purpose and dreams launch us into “synch at first sight”, but with a well-tuned heart, you can almost always fish out some common life commitments.

You both are dog (or cat or goldfish) people.
You both are travel (or fiction or workout) junkies.
You both are a little bit brooding artist, a little bit entrepreneur, or a little bit tree-hugger.

But at the end of the day, if nothing in your backgrounds gel, if your tastes don’t align, if your tattoos clash (I myself am partial to flesh-tone), there is always a pool of similarity that applies.

That applies. That applies. That applies.

Both of us were born.
And both of us will age.
In that process, we’ll both welcome new freedoms and new opportunities.
And we’ll both sigh under the weight of more demands and responsibilities.
We’ll both wish away the physical limitations that come with growing older.
And we’ll both eventually die.

We will both have moments of happiness and moments of sadness.
Gain and lose friendships and jobs; possessions and money.
We will celebrate moments of optimism and mourn periods of disappointment.
We’ll discover new ideas that help us grab hold of meaning.
And we’ll get confused and disoriented more than either of us can count.

We’ll both hate paying bills and taxes and parking tickets.
We’ll both go (sometimes out of obligation) to baby showers, weddings and funerals.
Maybe a few parties.
Wanting to belong, to feel important, to have our lives be worth something.

Our common denominator then:
We’ll both grace this earth as humans.
And that, when you think about, is a whole lot to have in common.

We’re lifelong partners in this existence and co-inhabitants of this planet together.
And if we can’t make a friendship out of that big of a common denominator, then I think it’s time we brushed up on our math.