Friendship lasts until one becomes a father
Friendship lasts forever - or until someone becomes a father. I've experienced it myself. There was also this couple in our circle of friends who had a child at an early age. From day one, the cute little sparrow was the number one topic of conversation until «I think we need to go home». Later, our visits turned into cultural soirées where we were able to enjoy his various talents.
He sang, danced and played the violin for us. I also played a lot of games with the young man. In chronological order: Eile mit Weile (lost), football (lost), chess (lost). The fact that I was trying to have a conversation with his father about Kafka made the situation even more humiliating. Idiot, the gloating gnome seemed to say to me, what do you know about Kafka? You've just lost to a five-year-old at chess.
Parenthood is often reminiscent of a psychosis: you are unable to perceive the situation in any other way than in relation to your own child.
Enough, I said after that evening. We're not going there any more. Well, I only thought it, but we actually saw our friends less and less. We cautiously expressed the wish to meet up with adults only. Our friends wanted that too. But the son was against it. We managed it once. One evening just the four of us, the child stowed away with his grandmother. We were sitting comfortably drinking wine when the mother's mobile phone rang: the son is having a tantrum. Demanding his parents. Doesn't want to live anymore. Two minutes later they were gone.
And so it came as it had to. Soon we only heard each other on the phone, where we promised to meet up soon without ever actually doing so. Today, her son is old enough to survive a parentless evening without throwing a tantrum, but we haven't been in touch for a long time.
Parents without friends
Now I am a father myself and can understand our friends better. Of course, our son is the greatest miracle in the world and it is hard to believe that there could be other opinions in this regard. And yet that's the way it is. To everyone else, he's just another child. They think he's cute or clever or annoying. And that's okay.
Parenthood is often reminiscent of a mild psychosis: you are simply unable to perceive circumstances in any other way than in relation to your own child. A cloud appears in the sky - are you dressed warm enough? A drunk burps on the bus - how cute he burped back then. At work, someone talks about the tape virus they caught on holiday - it will always stay with us.
The next time you have a childless visitor, ask: «Hey, what's going on at your place?»
That's not healthy. And it harms the friendship. So the next time you have a childless visitor, why don't you be the one to play chess with your friend? Your child can do some colouring in the meantime. And instead of launching into a half-hour summary of his latest illnesses, why not say something else, such as «Hey, what's going on with you?».
Because one day, as I said to my wife the other day, our child will leave us. I know it hurts, but it will happen. And when we don't have a single friend left because we've long since driven them all away, there will only be the two of us left. And then what? What then?!
