Doc: Banes... how's your lady love?
Banes: We... um... we broke up.
Doc: Really? That's too bad, yeah. Now George has a love at his side and she is sticking with him. You know why? Because he bought her chairs. That's pretty smart to me. You ever buy Lisa's chairs?'
Banes: Doc's real drunk tonight.
Doc: Every woman has her chair, something she needs to put herself into, Banes. You ever figure out what Lisa's chairs were and buy 'em? [pause] Nope.
... from Phenomenon
When asked about my talents, I will usually list two things: I'm good at school, and I'm good at being a friend. I list those because they speak to my values in a way that prompts me to continually try to improve my aptitude.
I've mentioned the school stuff a few times, and I'm sure I'll come back to it in later posts, but this one is about one approach I use to being a good friend: buy her chairs. (NOTE: I'm going to continue to use the female pronoun here to avoid the crappiness of he/she, his/her; the info is non-gendered, though.) If you saw Phenomenon (and you should -- it is a great movie), you don't need an explanation. If not ... this post is for you.
"Buy her chairs" means to find the thing about your friend that is important to her and with which you can connect to her on a deep level. In the movie, Lace makes wicker chairs and sells them at George's shop. George keeps buying the chairs so that she will come back and see him. In the scene quoted above, George's local doctor (played wonderfully by Robert Duvall) goes on a tirade because of how people are turning against George due to his recently developed abilities. His point (I think -- it's debatable) is that George's abilities have nothing to do with his relationship, and his abilities are not what define him.
My point, though, is that one way to make and keep a good friend is to find something that your friend finds important, then make that important to you. That doesn't mean that you merely ACT like it's important, or that you must begin to like it in the way that she does. It means that you are willing to invest in sharing that piece of your friend's life.
This is obviously not limited to one item. With my wife, I discovered early on that her "chairs" were (ignoring the obvious of the girls) her love of gardening and her love of writing. Now, the writing was a no-brainer for me -- I have a degree in English, and many of my best friends are excellent writers. The gardening part, though, was more of a stretch. I am not sedantary by nature (I love sports and most types of work), but I am sedantary by occupation, and I had rarely tried to grow anything.
But gardening was important to Dee, so I began to research it. I started volunteering to help her (mainly grunt and carry things -- remember, I knew nothing about gardening). There were several things that I didn't like, such as horse manure, the discovery of large spiders at inconvenient times, and being head-to-toe covered in dirt ... but more and more there were things that I did like. The satisfaction of manual labor and a job well done, the continued gratification of watching the plants thrive, the ultimate joy in harvesting and eating what we put down, ... the occasional Beck's while digging in the dirt ....
What was interesting about this -- and what continually happens with well-made connections, in my experience -- was that both of our enjoyment and appreciation grew as we worked the gardens together. Her chairs became OUR chairs, but not in a sense that I had taken something from her -- we just had a deeper connection.
I didn't know how it would turn out, of course, not in detail. But I did know, starting out, that I wanted to better connect with this vibrant woman, and here was something that I could obviously do. This pattern continues to this day (I freaking dance and sing to my Wii now ... and, I'm a bit ashamed to say, I enjoy it immensely, even when singing silly songs by Lady GaGa, Pink, etc.)
In more platonic relationships, the path is similar. Maybe your friend likes to roast coffee beans. Maybe she is a war buff and likes to go to sites of old battles. Maybe she likes to run, or play Settlers of Catan, or draw, or crochet, or raise dogs, or cook, or .... Each of these has its own beauty, and your friend can be a guide into that world.
So, go ahead ... buy those chairs.
Banes: We... um... we broke up.
Doc: Really? That's too bad, yeah. Now George has a love at his side and she is sticking with him. You know why? Because he bought her chairs. That's pretty smart to me. You ever buy Lisa's chairs?'
Banes: Doc's real drunk tonight.
Doc: Every woman has her chair, something she needs to put herself into, Banes. You ever figure out what Lisa's chairs were and buy 'em? [pause] Nope.
... from Phenomenon
When asked about my talents, I will usually list two things: I'm good at school, and I'm good at being a friend. I list those because they speak to my values in a way that prompts me to continually try to improve my aptitude.
I've mentioned the school stuff a few times, and I'm sure I'll come back to it in later posts, but this one is about one approach I use to being a good friend: buy her chairs. (NOTE: I'm going to continue to use the female pronoun here to avoid the crappiness of he/she, his/her; the info is non-gendered, though.) If you saw Phenomenon (and you should -- it is a great movie), you don't need an explanation. If not ... this post is for you.
"Buy her chairs" means to find the thing about your friend that is important to her and with which you can connect to her on a deep level. In the movie, Lace makes wicker chairs and sells them at George's shop. George keeps buying the chairs so that she will come back and see him. In the scene quoted above, George's local doctor (played wonderfully by Robert Duvall) goes on a tirade because of how people are turning against George due to his recently developed abilities. His point (I think -- it's debatable) is that George's abilities have nothing to do with his relationship, and his abilities are not what define him.
My point, though, is that one way to make and keep a good friend is to find something that your friend finds important, then make that important to you. That doesn't mean that you merely ACT like it's important, or that you must begin to like it in the way that she does. It means that you are willing to invest in sharing that piece of your friend's life.
This is obviously not limited to one item. With my wife, I discovered early on that her "chairs" were (ignoring the obvious of the girls) her love of gardening and her love of writing. Now, the writing was a no-brainer for me -- I have a degree in English, and many of my best friends are excellent writers. The gardening part, though, was more of a stretch. I am not sedantary by nature (I love sports and most types of work), but I am sedantary by occupation, and I had rarely tried to grow anything.
But gardening was important to Dee, so I began to research it. I started volunteering to help her (mainly grunt and carry things -- remember, I knew nothing about gardening). There were several things that I didn't like, such as horse manure, the discovery of large spiders at inconvenient times, and being head-to-toe covered in dirt ... but more and more there were things that I did like. The satisfaction of manual labor and a job well done, the continued gratification of watching the plants thrive, the ultimate joy in harvesting and eating what we put down, ... the occasional Beck's while digging in the dirt ....
What was interesting about this -- and what continually happens with well-made connections, in my experience -- was that both of our enjoyment and appreciation grew as we worked the gardens together. Her chairs became OUR chairs, but not in a sense that I had taken something from her -- we just had a deeper connection.
I didn't know how it would turn out, of course, not in detail. But I did know, starting out, that I wanted to better connect with this vibrant woman, and here was something that I could obviously do. This pattern continues to this day (I freaking dance and sing to my Wii now ... and, I'm a bit ashamed to say, I enjoy it immensely, even when singing silly songs by Lady GaGa, Pink, etc.)
In more platonic relationships, the path is similar. Maybe your friend likes to roast coffee beans. Maybe she is a war buff and likes to go to sites of old battles. Maybe she likes to run, or play Settlers of Catan, or draw, or crochet, or raise dogs, or cook, or .... Each of these has its own beauty, and your friend can be a guide into that world.
So, go ahead ... buy those chairs.
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