LANE WALLACE

We all need friends. Strong, positive, personal relationships are one of the three essential elements we need to be happy. Good friends are also important for helping us stay resilient if we’re working in a challenging industry like the male-dominated field of aviation. Even if we have a supportive partner or spouse, we still need other friends, because no one person can completely fill our need for those relationships. If we’re not married or don’t have a close-knit family of origin, friends matter even more. It also follows that, because we’re multi-faceted creatures, it’s helpful to have different friends who resonate with different aspects of ourselves or our lives. My husband loves me very much, but he’s a retired Navy captain. Which means that although he understands important parts of me, he doesn’t fully “get” my creative side or work. So I need other friends to help fill that role: to bounce ideas off of, brainstorm with, assist with connections or knowledge, or just commiserate about the frustrations of being a self-employed writer and creative person. I also need friends who understand, as he cannot, the perspective and struggles of being a woman in the world. 

Aside from different shared interests or understanding, however, there are also different layers of friendship. And that’s the part that took me so long to understand, accept, and learn to balance. I still remember when my perspective changed. I was complaining to someone about a friend who kept flaking out on me whenever she got an offer of a date. The friend I was talking to listened sympathetically, and then said, “I think you’re frustrated because you’re expecting a balcony friend to act like an orchestra friend.” Obviously, that needed some explanation. So she explained her “symphony hall” theory of friendship, which was so wonderful, and so helpful, that I think it’s worth sharing. 

The symphony hall theory of friendship starts with us as the performer on the stage, and the people in the audience as our multi-leveled circle of friends. At the top, in the cheap seats, are our balcony friends. We’re glad they’re there, but they’re not that close to us. They’re still valuable as part of a full house, but we shouldn’t invest in or expect too much from them. One level closer to the stage are our mezzanine friends. They’re more connected, and contribute more to us, but they’re still in the middle ground of commitment and closeness. 

Then there are our orchestra friends. They’re more invested in the friendship, and they’re a lot closer to us, so we can depend on them more. Orchestra friends should be trustworthy, responsible, and both thoughtful and considerate about others’ needs and feelings. They’re people we can count on if we need them, even if it’s not convenient for them. In a way, orchestra friendship begins where convenience ends. If someone is reliably willing and able to be there for us, even when it’s not convenient, they probably deserve a seat in the orchestra. Which, by the way, also involves a reciprocal level of commitment from us. But these are the people who won’t frustrate or disappoint us if we invest that level of commitment and effort. 

Of course, not even every orchestra seat is the same. The last group…the VIP seats directly in front of the stage…I reserve for “safe harbor” friends. This is the highest level of friendship, and it’s so rare that we’re lucky if we have one or two of them in the course of our lives. These are the people who love and accept us so unconditionally that we can say anything to them. We can screw up, make mistakes, even sometimes hurt their feelings, and they’ll still love, accept and forgive us, because they don’t expect us to be perfect. They embrace our imperfections and allow us to feel whatever it is we feel. These are the friends who will sit with us in our darkest hours, expecting nothing of us, accepting us at our worst, just so we know we’re not alone. They love us not only when we’re at our best or most fun, but also when we need that love and acceptance the most. Needless to say, if you’re lucky enough to have this kind of friend in your family or life, give them the best seat in the house, and do everything you can to be as much of a safe harbor for them as they are for you. 

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Where a person sits in your audience doesn’t limit their importance, however. Kindred spirits, for example, are essential to have in our lives, because they instinctively “get” important parts of us without explanation. They reinforce dreams, provide reassurance that we’re not crazy, and can create a kind of synergy that lets our light burn brighter in the world. But they aren’t always in the orchestra. I have a friend who, whenever I talk to her (which is if and when it happens to align with her own wants and needs), has amazing insights to offer and is fabulously interesting to talk to. But as a person, she’s very self-focused. So she’s in the mezzanine—someone very valuable in my life, but not someone I count on. 

Then there are “proximity friends”—people we don’t have that much in common with, except the fact that they live nearby. Not orchestra material, but still valuable. When I split up with the guy I’d been living with for eight years and moved back to California, my biggest challenge was loneliness. I didn’t have any close friends nearby, but I found some proximity friends who helped keep that loneliness at bay while I put the pieces back together. I knew I wouldn’t keep up with them once I moved, or even have that deep a relationship with them. But they gave me companionship, someone to do things with, and a valuable level of human interaction and community. And that’s worth a lot—as long as we don’t expect them to be something more and end up disappointed when they can’t or don’t deliver. 

Not all friends stay for the whole performance, either. And that’s okay, too. Others will arrive and take a seat, bringing new energy and perspective with them. Life is an evolving, movable feast, if we’re doing it right, and the friends we need often evolve along with it. But if we recognize where people fit in the audience, and balance our expectations and investment with what they’re able and willing to give back to us, we can enjoy what they have to offer without resenting what they don’t…for whatever length of time they’re at the show. 

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