I read once somewhere that the reason friends becomes close is because of a shared secret. Sure time and shared experience factor in there somewhere but nothing brings two individuals closer and faster than sharing a secret. Not just any secret, the kind that, if let out into the world, could ruin a man's life forever.
It’s something true of members of a band, partners-in-crime (Yes, real crime. I’m talking ex-cons here) and even partners-in-crime in the business sense. BFF’s or best friends forever share innumerable secrets about each other that, in one way or another, black mail them into staying together.
Just like buddies in a military troop, exploring foreign territory, there’s no one else to rely on but your partner. It’s a terribly hostile world and naturally, you turn to the only thing that’s not hostile towards you. I’m not putting a dark, survivalist spin on this, but rather stating a matter of fact.
I can’t count the number of times I’ve felt that in Europe, jumping from train to train and finding my way, much thanks to my best friend, through a city I’ve never been to before. Sure there were times that we didn’t get a long, but we lived through it anyway. What further puzzled my parents was how we could stand to see each other the very next day, when we got back from Europe.
“Haven’t you had enough of each other?” they asked. I couldn’t figure out why they found it so obscure.
In contrast, my best friend always says, “Familiarity breeds contempt.” That, too, is true. Hang around someone or something long enough and you’re bound to hate it, that ever dependable, yet hideously rusty family car entrusted to you, that tacky family heirloom of a ring from grandma, with a gigantic turquoise rock in the center surrounded by ridiculously Victorian leaves… there’s a whole laundry list of them around the house.
Yet despite all this contempt breeding familiarity, that blackmailing secret still remains. It cons your subconscious, somehow, convincing you to suck up everything you hate for the sake of keeping something a secret. It could be the reason why some people, despite all the indications contrary to it, happen to be friends. You know a number of them — best friends (or couple) with nothing in common whatsoever, who seem to start a fight every chance they get, only to make up after and begin the cycle anew.
I’ve just recently come from a week long vacation on an isolated island in the equatorial Pacific with some friends. (Funny how you can use ‘equatorial’ and ‘pacific’ and suddenly it doesn’t sound like the Philippines anymore.) I’ve come back with pictures, stories (Yes, even the kind that make me some money.) and a nice new tan. Yet one more thing I came home with was a closer bond with friends I never thought I’d grow closer to.
The very next day after our arrival, we just had to see each other for one reason or another. “Siargo bonding,” one jested. I still think the reason is a little secret we all shared, one you won’t see in the pictures I’ve posted — the kind of secret that blackmails you into staying together.
