"ugh. that chick was trippin' lizards, yo"

. . . Nothing.

"dewd, my belly does not have any food in it right now."

. . . Nope.

"soooo when are we going to go do that thing we talked about that one time?"

. . . *crickets*

"where you been, man?"

"Just busy with some stuff and things"

"want to grab coffee?"

"I don't know. I have a dentist appointment next Tuesday, so I don't know if we'll be able to sync up our schedules"

"come on. we haven't talked in ages. you're usually free thursdays, right? let's meetup for a canolli or something."



Boom. Fraped.

Frape (not frappé) is a new word I made up last night after realizing that I'm terrified of becoming an overbearing friend person, a.k.a. a frapist. You can probably figure out its roots if you think about it. . . yeah. You get it.

I've been thinking lately about when being friendly and proactive in relationships crosses the line from appropriately thoughtful into uncomfortably persistent, and I've determined that I have absolutely no idea. Forcing the physical act [of hanging out] is wrong and nobody should do it. But what exactly counts as forcing? Four texts? A phone call? More than one email? For me, three chronologically distant yet consecutive texts feels pretty frapey -- because really, how many more can you send before the other person become so uncomfortable they reply, even though they really don't want to? After two, I pretty much understand that you've been over me for, like, four months already and the resulting shame that I didn't tire of your company before you tired of mine means I hate you forever and ever and I never want to see you again.

. . . I realize that this is probably not healthy.

For obvious reasons, yes, but some others as well. My eagerness to avoid engaging in non-consensual friendship means that I tend to just not get to know people unless they get to know me first. This is unfair, illogical, and I'm sure excludes me from many enriching relationships. But it's the case. The good (?) news is that I actually quite enjoy spending time alone, so this intense social dysfunction doesn't bother me all that much. However, on those rare occasions when I do shoot off the first communique, I quickly spiral into the above mentioned doubt-spiral and shut out people who I actually think might be pretty neato. Not productive.

I don't even think frape is bad, in the abstract. If you think someone is keen, of course you should put some real effort into getting to know them better! I probably wouldn't have any friends if people hadn't done that with me. But I just can't bring myself to. . . you know.

I don't even know what the point I'm trying to get across here is.

I think it's easiest to just associate with blood relatives -- if they think you're lame they'll tell you, but you still get to be buddies anyway because that's just the rule.

(ok siblings? Ok.)

Because I don't have any other good conclusion, I'll leave you with the frapists' anthem, by Blondie: