Mad About Mates

Friendship and its changing role but constant place in our lives

Extremely late to the party, I finally went to see the fourth Bridget Jones film, Mad About the Boy, at the weekend. I was worried it wouldn’t be showing at the cinema anymore, or, worse, they’d already be making number five: Bridget as a grandmother (let’s not think about that). As expected, I loved it. I laughed, cried and, at some point, was doing a snorting, blubbing combination, which caused my friend to ask if my allergies were playing up. She’d been coerced into coming with me; she wasn’t having such an emotional reaction to the screen.

From the first Bridget Jones book I read, I assumed everyone loved her. I’d found the book on a bookshelf early one morning after a night out. We were all staying at a friend’s studio flat, bodies dotted everywhere in various states of disrepair. I’d been instructed, before we’d gone out for the night, to be quiet in the morning and consult the bookshelf to occupy myself. I’ve always been an irritating early riser despite nights out. The book was taken out of my hands that morning due to my loud and uncontrollable laughter. It belonged to my friend’s girlfriend (probably already ex-girlfriend by then because of the how-many-people-can-I-fit-into-my-studio-flat evenings 😉), and he said I could take it with me. I continued to laugh like a drain on the beach the following week while away on holiday with a friend. When I read her a passage, she wasn’t amused (which lightly inspired a story many years later). It was then that I realised Bridget isn’t for everyone, but she’s definitely for the likes of me – the less perfect (and I write that with pride).

I thought the focus of the film was going to be romantic relationships. I won’t go into too many details, but there may be a few spoilers if you happen to be any later than me in seeing it. Although romance is covered, as is family and grief, the main takeaway for me was friendship. Bridget has held on to her sweary, massively inappropriate, wine-swilling friends for over 20 years – no mean feat when lives take different directions. Bridget is still close to that original circle, her former colleagues, and has unexpectedly become friends with an ex-boyfriend (Daniel Cleaver), as well as having a possibly too-close friendship with her gynaecologist.

Similarly, despite the years and the distance, I still have friends who fall into these categories (and I don’t mean just on Facebook). I’ve known my oldest friend since we were born (our mums met in the hospital having their checkups while pregnant). She had children in her twenties, and we didn’t have anything in common for a while (when your child is teething and you haven’t slept, your bestie rambling about the latest unsuitable man and Christmas party antics is probably a bit annoying). Now, we speak again every couple of weeks for a few hours on the phone. The same goes for my class friend; we both travelled and lost touch for a bit after school but now message each other regularly and end up having conversations that haven’t moved on from when we were 11 years old (really, some are pretty disgusting). My current friends range from their late twenties to 74 and 86. Once you’ve passed a certain age, it seems less of a relevant measure for friendship.

However, other factors are relevant as we get older. I’ve talked in previous posts about not enduring situations, but giving up on a friendship is tough. It’s good to have people in our lives who know the real us, but we all develop, and when friendships hold us back rather than allowing us or helping us to grow, they’re no longer healthy. I’ve had friends who were great fun, but, outside of that, not very supportive, and others who were massively supportive when I was down but made sly comments repeatedly to put me back down as soon as my luck changed. It took me a while to realise this in both situations and came down to something I call the “yuk-test”: that feeling when you’re on the way home from meeting a so-called friend and you want to shake it off like slime.

Luckily, I’ve held on to the ones who count, my oldest two, as already mentioned, the friend with the studio flat (I’m sure his flat is now bigger, but other than that he’s not changed much), some old drinking partners, who still share stories of their fewer but by no means less disgraceful nights out, and I never expected to become so close to my friend who endured Bridget with me (she’s my Daniel Cleaver). My circle has also expanded to include many mummy friends and friends who decided or have ended up on a different life path and don’t have children. We don’t have to share everything – differences can make the friendship special. There are many more friends I could mention, and, thanks to this blog, the list is growing with people signing up and messaging me to let me know they’re enjoying it and want to get in touch again.

So, we win some, we lose some. I’m not “all by myself” as Bridget sang loudly and badly in the first film. I’m sure you’re not either – just make sure you’re surrounding yourself with the right people – use my “yuk-test” if it helps you. I’m always happy to share 😉.

I’m still not friends with my gynaecologist, though – I don’t need to have too much in common with Bridget!