Friendship Recession

Stumbled onto something new the other day, a phenomena. 

Maybe stumbled is the wrong word. It was brought to my attention by Ms. Muse. Apparently, and I didn't know this was a thing --partly from denial -- men have certain difficulties in the friendship area.

I'm not talking Facebook. I have more than 2000 "friends" there. And new attractive Asian women who works in the cosmetics marketing arena wants me to friend them almost on the hour. 

Nor am I talking work friends. On LinkedIn I have close to 10,000 friends/followers/connections, most of whom I couldn't pick out of a lineup. 

At best, I could the number of close male friends I have on two hands. 

Despite political differences, and 3000 miles of separation, I'm still close friends with a couple of guys I went to high school with. That's 50+ years of adventures, weddings, funerals and shared memories. Well, almost memories.

I have 40+ years friendship with old roommates, college and otherwise.

And I've managed to eek out friendships with guys I met in the brutal, cutthroat business of advertising.

In other words, or the words chosen by Ms. Muse, I'm kind of an anomaly.

This is made even more striking by my innate ability to piss people off, voice sometimes unpopular opinions, go long periods without contact, and occasionally letting dark clouds hover over my head and holing up in my man cave with ample rye and unlimited internet diversions, see Hitler cats.  

In short, I consider myself a lucky man. 

Though not as lucky as women, who can seemingly strike up a long and meaningful friendship at the drop of a shoe name like Jimmy Chu's. In my current binge-ing of The Sopranos, Adreana is unwiitingly befriended by an undercover FBI agent, Danielle, in the shoe department at Nordstroms in the Paramus Park Mall. They make it look so damn easy.

That would NEVER happen to a man. 

NEVER.

Must be why women, all women, have a gazillion friends. 

It's gotta be the shoes.