Somebody That You Used To Know

Like many others, I have fewer friendships than I used to. With the ones that survived, I notice they speak to this earlier version of myself - before the pressure of the last two plus years transformed me.

They don’t see this new me.

If more of my old friends were actually here - as in present, aware and alert to the extraordinary times we’re living in - then they might recognize they don’t know me anymore.

That in fact, I’m somebody they used to know.

Why would that surprise? They don’t see anything. It’s very much like they are not really here. They talk and when they do, it sounds like talking-points. They parrot their parties narratives, repeat fake data they heard from the propaganda-box and once in awhile if feeling particularly naughty say something critical about the administration of their guy. (At least he’s not “Trump-bad”, or something along those lines.) I think, “How are these my friends?” or “Holy-shit I need new friends.”

(I actually have ‘a’ friend who is outside this particular program but for her, she’s waiting on Trump, as if, his return will fix everything. The other side of the Trump psychosis I guess. Big sigh.)

I used to be a libtard; more than a decade ago now. So perhaps I should cut them some slack. Friendships were formed when we had that worldview in common. (You know that worldview where you don’t actually know anything but you think you know everything?) And of course back then friendships encompassed more than politics. Now everything feels like a litmus test; lefties are trained to listen for any evidence that you might be a Trump sympathizer (still!) a racist, an intolerant trans-phobia menace, soft on Russia or, of course, an anti-vaxxer.

My friends know my position on all things Covid and the vaccine. They overlook it. We don’t talk about it. My continued presence in their life is an example of their tolerance; sort of like an updated take on the old token black friend: “I have black friends” has become “I have unvaxxed friends.” Another opportunity to virtue signal.

Perhaps in the next social setting, I’ll test the water with a comment along the lines of, “Hey, anyone see that new Naomi Wolf interview on Steve Bannon’s show?” Why not? I’m super bored of the usual nothing conversation anyway so may as well stir things up. Someone will likely look at me quizzically, but I seriously doubt I’d get a reply.

It’s the start of the weekend and I’m feeling a little sad for myself - I’ll get over it - that I don’t have friends to call who actually see me. Let alone are curious and will ask me questions.

Maybe the real issue here is my unwillingness to let go of them? The old version of me holding on to a life that’s gone and someone that I used to know.

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