A hit of nostalgia and an old in-joke are instant intimacy-revivers
i never thought I’d say this, but I got a very welcome barrage of Whatsapp messages the other day. I know! But they were welcome for several reasons. Firstly, they were from one of my oldest friends. Secondly, they weren’t to do with home improvements or politics. And thirdly, they were all lyrics from soul and funk songs.
More precisely, they were lyrics from ’80s Soul Weekender, an album said friend and I used to listen to when we were at uni together, many moons ago. Songs we danced around the room to, did shots to, made plans to, made promises to. She followed the lyrics with a message that said, ‘So many of our getting-ready-to-go-out songs when we had not a care in the world.’ And then, ‘Hello and goodbye.’ I laughed. We hadn’t spoken for weeks. Haven’t seen each other for months. Because this is life now. Packed, frantic, full of care. But when I got those texts, I was right back in that dingy little room with her in halls of residence, having the time of my life. Admiring her blusher and her toenails. Her improbably strappy black velvet shoes. The tight beige dress she wore, and unwore, on the dance floor, like a snake. That was our nightly ritual: those songs, those expectations, that careless power. It was a tradition we carried well into our late twenties and beyond.
Sometimes, you wonder what the surviving traditions are. How do we reconnect, over and over, regularly, as everyone lives increasingly different lives? (I wonder whether we’ll come back more easily together in the future, maybe in our sixties or seventies, when responsibilities lessen again and the people we’re caring for now don’t need us so much and our work lives aren’t so demanding?) It’s not like we’ve had much time to practise the in-person traditions the past few years – the meals, the drinks, the hugs, the loving jostles of close friendships at large. But I realised how much I needed to key back into that sense of before, and music is one effective, easy in-road. These things feel so crucial; the emotional shorthand that says, ‘You are still mine, still my best, after all this time.’
It feels extra important at the moment because, like a lot of people, I’m currently struggling with the work-life balance, and getting friendship in the mix as part of that is an added challenge. The things I do to make contact with the people I love need to be – as awful as this sounds – fast and true. Just five minutes chatting on a street corner or doorstep can be a boost. Sometimes, it feels like all I can cope with (or fit in), too.
Every time you make a decision about how to maintain your friendships, you learn something about yourself. As I was replying to those messages I discovered I was yearning for an in-joke, an intimacy. I figured it might have something to do with my four-year-old son just starting school. It’s been an emotional September. I’ve been nervous for him making new friendships as well as cautiously presenting myself at the school gate to the other parents, wondering which of them will become my friends over the coming years. The school nerves! I’ve been trying not to project too much, but school is so fundamental to friendship, it’s no wonder I’ve been craving comfort. My old soul has been in need of some… old soul. And who knew? My old best mate did, that’s who.
‘I’ve been presenting myself at the school gate, wondering which parents will become my friends’