In a circle of true Friends each man is simply what he is: stands for nothing but himself. No one cares twopence about anyone else’s family, profession, class, income, race, or previous history. Of course you will get to know about most of these in the end. But casually. They will come out bit by bit, to furnish an illustration or an analogy, to serve as pegs for an anecdote; never for their own sake. That is the kingliness of Friendship. We meet like sovereign princes of independent states, abroad, on neutral ground, freed from our contexts. This love (essentially) ignores not only our physical bodies but that whole embodiment which consists of our family, job, past and connections. At home, besides being Peter or Jane, we also bear a general character; husband or wife, brother or sister, chief, colleague, or subordinate. Not among our Friends. It is an affair of disentangled, or stripped, minds. Eros will have naked bodies; Friendship naked personalities. Hence (if you will not misunderstand me) the exquisite arbitrariness and irresponsibility of this love. I have no duty to be anyone’s Friend and no man in the world has a duty to be mine. No claims, no shadow of necessity. Friendship is unnecessary, like philosophy, like art, like the universe itself... It has no survival value; rather it is one of those things which gave value to survival.
C,S, Lewis, The Four Loves
via Brain Pickings
Last night, I had the last of my extended birthday celebrations on the top of the Hotel Wilshire in mid-city. A few of my dearest friends met me at this funky, little rooftop bar and restaurant where we might have been the grannies of most of the people there.
As you can see, a teeny tiny little square pool sat in the middle, and when we arrived several tattooed and bikinied gals were casually sipping on their fancy cocktails, looking exactly like a live Barbie Pool set-up. Dang! I should have brought my bathing suit! I said to my friends and felt a frisson of fear at the prospect. We ordered drinks. I had some concoction of gin and elderflower liqueur, lime juice and soda that gave me a perfect buzz after about five sips. We ordered appetizers and sat around the table for hours, discussing everything from breasts to men, laughing most of the time. Somewhere in there, I also had a mule made with lime, ginger beer and vodka -- it wasn't a Moscow Mule, but it was even more delicious. I opened ridiculously fine presents -- a Kantha, an antique bowl and goodies for the bath, and we finished with peanut butter and jelly beignets and strawberry shortcake. By that time, the Barbies had left, the hipsters had taken over and we rode the elevator back down to the street and went back home. I would be lost without these women friends -- the ones that I was lucky to have with me last night and the scattering rest of them, really, all over the world. Thank you, ladies. We do, indeed, have an affair of disentangled, or stripped, minds.