I have always found it easier to be friends with men more than women. I believe it stems from my warm and caring relationship with my own father. My mother was cold and unfeeling, with children she never wanted in the first place. I do connect easily with women if we click on similar subjects. I have never wanted to connect with ones who think the reason for living is to shop or gossip. A lot of women I have known like to kick a man or for that fact, another woman, when they are down, use one only to get what they want. I have known women who use their children against their fathers. And if I am to be honest, I have met a lot of women who can be catty bitches with nothing ever making them happy except to making others lives a living hell. That is not what I can deal with.
I tend to like strong yet gentle women as friends. The ones that have been through hell and back. The ones that can do the work on themselves to bring them back to the ways that are best for them. I know this may seem odd to you but it is how I have always been. I do have female friends yet they live far from me. We can talk about anything. I am a member of a group where we get together at a certain time and talk about whatever comes to mind or has bothered us lately. Some I agree with. Some I do not however in that place and time, we all agree that we are individuals and are entitled to how we feel. We make no apologies, we discuss, we laugh, we open our souls.
A while back I made a friend on another page. Yes, it was a male. We had much in common yet much not as such. The more we talked, the more I felt for him. I ended up telling him I loved him. Love, but not in the way love usually goes. He had been through his own hell but he dragged himself back. He lived every day as if it were to be his last. I think I frightened the bejesus out of him, which I did not mean to, but being as I am, I do not always use words as I should. My love for him was for his compassion, his ability to listen to me, and for his understanding, the openness he gave back and his giving me grace. I had the hardest time trying to tell him that. I could speak of the pride I had for him and everything else but the love I felt was not inviting him to live with me nor walk down the aisle with me because I would not know how to entertain anyone for any length of time from being alone for so long. We both live alone and rather like it. I think he craves more personal interactions at times than I do. Either or, he is my friend. A friend that I dearly love as if we had known each other a lifetime and were there for each other in those times. I hope to share in his happy and sad times. I know I will always be there for him.
This is why I feel the deepest love for him. It comes when you realise that this person helped you touch wounds you could have never found alone. It comes when they stayed with you as you burnt in the fire of becoming someone new. It comes when they didn’t leave because it got too hard. It comes when you find your way back to connection again and again.
No one can tell me I have not said things to him that made him want to tell me to go to hell. He was being unselfish with me, still sharing his time with me. That is being a real friend. And while he may have wanted to knock me upside the head so to speak, he stuck it out with me. That is priceless in a friend which I always hope I have in him.
Some of my women friends do not go that distance when we are discussing things. They much prefer to sweep things under the rug instead of dealing with them. I feel sorry and at the same time sad for them. It did make me wonder if perhaps some women were like the men who have a hard time showing emotions.
LexiMe - My journey of faith 