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Why I Favor Reliable Friends
When I asked my buddy Jake for a ride to the airport at 6 a.m. one crisp morning, he cheerfully replied, “Absolutely!” Not only that, but he also offered to help me search for a new place, calling it “an adventure.” Forget the fact that my last parking experience in the city ended when some sketchy individual broke into my car. When I needed someone to watch my car during a trip to support my dad through his health struggles, nearly every friend I reached out to—both guys and girls—said no. Except for Lisa. She simply said, “Of course!” Feeling grateful, I promised to bring along some snacks and a good book to keep her entertained. “Nah, I’ll just people-watch,” she said with a smile. “That’ll be fun.”
As we inch closer to our 40s, I feel like we start to distinguish between friends who are there for the thrill and those who offer genuine support. My more exciting friends captivate me, and I adore them for that, but I’ve grown to prioritize those who will be there when I need a ride or show up as promised.
Once, when I required quotes for a grad school project about a quirky little shop five hours away, Lisa faced her shyness head-on. She parked herself in front of the store after work and asked customers for their thoughts. Lisa might be quiet, but those who take time to know her discover a vibrant spirit underneath. She’s an amazing cook, a belly dancer, and adventurous traveler—always up for something new. But she doesn’t steal the spotlight.
Not like my old college friend “Samantha,” who dazzled everyone with her beauty, talent, and charisma. After school, I found myself doing all the planning and reaching out to keep in touch. Once I stopped making the effort, so did she.
I’d take Lisa over a thousand glamorous Samathas. Lisa even agreed to go to a concert with me, even though she’d likely struggle to name a single song from the artist. I was nervous about the crowds and the potential for bats swooping around, but Lisa assured me that all I had to do was look at her if I felt anxious, and we’d leave right away, no questions asked. If Samantha is a masterpiece in a gallery, then Lisa is a comforting hug on a tough day.
This isn’t to say that my steady friends lack interest or personality. They’re just as smart and engaging, but their brilliance is more understated. I could reach out to Lisa, Jake, or others in my life at any moment and know they’d be there, providing the essential support I need. While Samantha might add a bit of spice to life, it’s the reliable friends who are my true sustenance.
In the past, I’ve often been drawn to friends who shined brightly but fizzled out just as quickly. A while back, I met “Tina,” whose charm and intensity captivated me right away. We were inseparable for weeks, but then she vanished without a word, leaving me puzzled. Now, whenever a new friendship opportunity arises, I remind myself of the saying that what ignites quickly can just as easily burn out.
Even my romantic interests have shifted. In my younger days, I was drawn to the moody, brooding types. No offense to my wonderful husband, who’s kind and artistic, but if given a do-over, I might prefer someone who feels more at home fixing a leaky sink than writing me a sonnet. If I could talk to my teenage self today, I’d suggest steering clear of the tortured artists—they often come with a side of drama that can grow old fast. Nowadays, I’d rather watch someone fix a plumbing issue than hear about their emotional turmoil.
Reflecting on my past friendships, I realize that my circle has shifted from dazzling stars to those who embody trustworthiness, loyalty, kindness, and a willingness to help. It’s not that I approach friendships with a checklist of what they can offer me. My pals have plenty of skills, but what matters most is that they are genuinely there for me, unlike those who only stick around for a season.
In short, I’ve come to value friends who are solid and dependable over those who simply light up a room for a brief moment.