A Tale of Two Weddings

I flew back to Perth a fortnight ago to celebrate my friend Jadon’s wedding. We’ve known each other since something like 2008, I remember meeting him and being enthralled by his cool and seemingly impulsive vibe. Jadon made semi-nonsensical sayings up on the fly, he listened to popular indie music, he was outgoing and enthusiastic and fun. And as a teenager who occasionally travelled to church-oriented events in Perth, I saw him as the sort of social being that I wanted to be, or at least be friends with.

Given my admiration for Jadon you’d think that after I moved to Perth in 2011 I would have pursued a friendship with him in an overt and immediate fashion. But I didn’t want to come on too strong, I wanted to hang out when the opportunity naturally emerged, and generally I didn’t think he’d want to hang out with me since he already had a well established circle of friends. What was shyness probably came across as disinterest, and the end result was that (in the early months of living in Perth) I was occasionally frustrated by my inability to just hang out with him. The more I think about it, the more I realise this was my approach to a lot of new friends when I first moved. Stepping into a social circle with a long history can be intimidating.

Fortunately with time the strength of our mutual interests won out and opportunities to hang emerged quite naturally. I’m very thankful that was the case because Jadon has become my closest friend. I’ve enjoyed discussing music, literature, movies and other far more esoteric things with him; I even recall one New Years Eve party at which we spent forty minutes debating the structural feasibility of a fictitious city map featured on another friend’s shirt, simply because the concept of treating it with intellectual earnestness seemed funny. And that sort of thing is a big part of our relationship.

I often wonder how much of our friendship has been spent on the same page though. Over the years there have been ebbs and flows in the amount of time we spent hanging out. Sometimes we didn’t see each other because I wasn’t sure if Jadon wanted to hang out with me, or because I felt wounded by Jadon’s lack of time for me when dating, or when I hurt him with my own emotional insensitivity and inadvertent neglect. But there were also long periods where we’d hang out weekly, write raps together, watch arthouse or C grade movies, deal with girl problems and eventually even live together.

Throughout these periods my perception of our friendship varied drastically, and I’ve come to learn that this fluctuation in perception can greatly shape the character of my own social behaviour. I’ve learnt that I’m insecure when it comes to relationships, and that my immediate reaction when suspicious of a friend’s attitude towards me and fearing it might change is to withdraw. Heading into Jadon’s marriage, I’d have assumed these fears would crop up again: “When he gets married he’ll only hang out with other couples” or “He doesn’t need my friendship now that he’s met his wife,” are all things I’ve thought about other friends, and thoughts that have lead me to quickly pull back from friendships. But I think I’ve moved past that fear and, in part it was my friend Jan’s wedding that helped me learn how.

Jan and I didn’t really know each other all that well before he moved in to live with me. We’d rolled around in each other’s arms at an engagement party, and I think Jan planted a kiss on my cheek for the camera. But as far as I was concerned he was just a sarcastic dude. While Jan’s penchant for dry humour appealed to me (and provoked some frustration on behalf of my other housemates early on), it was his vulnerability that I really appreciated. In my teens and early twenties I tended to direct some rather offensive language towards my friends in public, making a show of calling Jan (and Jadon too) things like “idiot” and perhaps other slightly harsher terms. I wasn’t comfortable with emotional intimacy, and yet I wanted my friends to know that they meant something to me. So I singled them out for abuse, weirdly hoping it would be interpreted as affectionate.

Jan on the other hand always approached me with honesty, he complimented me, came to me for advice when I least expected it and reproached me quite calmly when I’d said or done something he didn’t agree with. In the latter case, I could be frustrated me at times but he was committed to maintaining the relationships that were important to him. At his wedding, Jan devoted a relatively hefty chunk of time to talking about the relationships he had with each of his groomsmen (myself included), and I’ve always seen that as representative of the way Jan does friendships. I’d somewhat dreaded attending Jan’s wedding as a first time bridal party member, since the prospect of having to talk to people all day was exhausting. But the day was special, not because I enjoy the ceremonial pomp of the Western wedding, but because I had time to process how much Jan’s relationship had meant to me while we’d been living together.

When I went home at the end of the night, something in my gut felt empty. Jan had been part of my life for a long enough period of time that losing him felt unfair. I’ve never been married, so I can’t vouch for how particularly great it feels, but I know that I loved living with Jan and my other housemates. That night I realised how strange it was that I’d never really expressed the sentimentality I felt towards people who were important to me. It was odd that when discussing future plans we’d all express the common desire to enter a monogamous relationship in search of companionship, with nary a thought for the fact that we relied on and enjoyed each others company greatly.

Not long before Jan got married, Jadon and I had a bit of an unspoken tiff. I’d been hurt by the lack of time we’d spent together after he’d begun dating his future wife. My resulting behaviour managed to give him the impression that I didn’t want him to move in with me after a spot opened up in the house. Around that time, I‘d definitely begun to withdraw from him, so we miscommunicated and I hurt him back. In general we were as friendly as ever, but there seemed to be some lingering confusion over the way we each saw our relationship. I don’t remember the circumstances preceding the conversation, but at a third wedding we ended up talking about it. Quite a casual conversation, all things considered. But as soon as I learnt how much he valued my presence in his life, the confusion dissipated. My desire to abandon Jadon before he could abandon me lessened with certainty about how he saw me, and made me want to repay his friendship in whole.

I think I’m drawn to self-flagellation in relationships, but I’m learning to manage that tendency. I’ve grown from my friendship with both Jadon and Jan, and have learnt to practice emotional honesty and self-awareness. In the lead-up to Jadon’s wedding a part of me was offended that I wouldn’t get to be his best man. Since Jadon would be mine, I felt vulnerable and feared the world would be exposed to the clear inadequacy of my company. I was compelled to ruminate on the poor quality of my friendship and consider the things I had done wrong to not receive anything equal in return. This fallacy, induced by self doubt, ultimately pails in comparison to the certainty provided by the definitive things Jadon has said about what my friendship means to him. Funnily enough, my understanding of what I mean to people has increased tenfold since I’ve actively sought to tell other people what they mean to me. I often think back to how emotionally validated I felt when Jan shared the things he appreciated about my friendship at his wedding, and realise that I am able to provide that to other people on any given day. That I regularly receive them in return is an added bonus, but a rather helpful one in the face of existential angst.

When it comes up in conversation I tend to express a distaste for weddings. Having attended far too many of them as a musician, they’ve begun to seem somewhat formulaic. I also wonder if the cultural focus on relationships and the ‘fated’ progression to marriage is just a product of the current era. It seems like a tradition that once took a remarkably different form, and will likely undergo a remarkable change over the next century. Nevertheless I enjoyed Jan and Jadon’s weddings alike, simply because I got to see them be happy.

After Jan’s wedding, I began to rue the fact that our relationship was changing at the very moment I’d learnt to appreciate it. But even though our friendship is different, since his day to day relational priorities have changed, I’m confident that he cares about me and that he knows I care about him. At Jadon’s wedding, I thought about how my relationship with him will undergo a similar change, as circumstances evolve and his priorities begin to differ. But I’m certain that the confidence I have in what our relationship means to me, and my commitment to sharing that with Jadon in the future will aid significantly in the maintenance of our friendship, whatever form it may take.

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