A Few Good Men

I have been extraordinarily blessed to hold good men as some of my dearest and oldest friends. Some have been like brothers; others my betrothed; others my stage lovers. We have camped and carpooled together, laughed and cried, karaoked and improvised. They have guided me through break ups, buoyed me through unemployment, clapped for me at performances, paid for me when it meant the most, given me their bed to sleep in, confided in me with news and fears, called me in times of crisis, showered me with thoughtful gifts, inspired me with their faith, cooked their first egg with me. When the world claims “men and women can’t be friends,” I have years of evidence to the contrary. I have Max's uproarious laughter; David B.'s reliability; Justin's creativity; and Paul's generosity, just to start. Frankly, I don’t know who or where I would be without these men in my life, but recently, I lost one.

As my brother’s best friend who lived just a block away, David Merritt was always around our house growing up. Truly more family than friend, he was my fifth brother. My memories are filled with his deep voice and serious face that would suddenly transform into laughter. When he came home from college, I would be just as excited to see him as my own kin (getting mad at him for his less enthusiastic response, as a true little sister would). Although our friendship would never grow much past familial affection, it was deeply formative and special. 

Sometime when we were in high school or so, David made me a mix CD. As musical talent always tied us together, this wasn’t out of character at all. I popped it into my portable disc player, and through the cushion of my headphones was carried away in a wave of alternative and soft rock tunes. He followed up days later to ask me what I thought about the songs, and told me that particularly “Ballad for My One True Love” by Mason Jennings was his song for me. This wasn’t a marriage proposal, nor even an admission of a crush; it was just a matter-of-fact offering, a platonic acknowledgement that all our shared history and late night chats and karaoke sessions and arguments and most importantly, our mutual birthday, added up to an irreplaceable affection. A mutual affection, as I felt the exact same way. From that moment on, no other song has warmed my heart quite so much.

In his teenage way, David revealed a wisdom I am only beginning to understand. His choice of song illuminated the idea that, as every person is unique in the image and likeness of God, every relationship between persons is unique, and thus each is its own “one true love,” never to be replaced or replicated. We didn’t have to talk all the time, or be each other’s best friend, or be the same age, to be meaningful to one another. Friendship doesn’t have to have qualifiers, just qualities. It is difficult to convey such emotions and attachments, especially between male and female friends, when our language for and imagery of love is so limited. Presenting a song like that to a girl could have disastrously awkward consequences. But David chose to be honest in that moment, and here I am, a decade and a death later still thinking about it. 

When you share a literal lifetime with someone, sometimes you forget to communicate to them how important they are to you. I presume time and attention and history and maybe a few gifts show them I love them. I’ve taken for granted the inside jokes, the comfortability of silence, the shared knowledge. I’ve presumed they know just how much they mean to me. And hopefully they do, but it is probably still good to say it every once in a while. To make clear that each in his own way is my “one true love” – irreplaceable, one-of-a-kind, and cherished. Even if the world tries to tell us true friendship between us is impossible; even if our own hearts complicate it at times; friendship is love, and love never fails.

Men and women can be friends. To stop the assault, harassment, inequality, and misunderstanding between sexes, men and women need to be friends. My friendships with men teach me so much about vulnerability and strength. They teach me to communicate and forgive and love in a way wholly unique to the complementarity of the sexes. They prepare me for a vocation to marriage and for the Bridegroom Himself in ways no female friendship can. They are good, good men, and I am glad they are mine.

“Those who cannot conceive Friendship as a substantive love but only as a disguise or elaboration of Eros betray the fact that they have never had a Friend.” –C.S. Lewis, The Four Loves