The very hostile caterpillar

I spend a lot of time thinking about relationships and my friends. My family used to call me a social butterfly which a) I don't think describes me at all and b) is possibly one of the worst terms I've ever heard.

Especially when applied to a guy.

Guys aren't supposed to be butterflies. Guys aren't even supposed to take notice of butterflies unless they're under a microscope and then mounted because maybe this particular guy isn't a very good hunter, but dammit, he needs something to put over his fireplace.

When I hear "social butterfly," it makes me think of someone nervously interacting with everyone and trying desperately to make friends with each individual at the cost of getting to know anyone. That's not me. I know who I get along with. Unfortunately, that's not everyone. In fact, it's not even half of you out there. A lot of you are too old. Some of you are Dallas Cowboys fans. At least one or two of you have flicked me off in traffic.

And some of you just rub me the wrong way. Guy I don't know nodding and winking at me knowingly when an attractive girl walks by: I will leave you hanging when you try to fist bump me later. Girl I've never met before asking me lots of uncomfortable personal questions and then rolling your eyes when I don't answer: I will probably accept your friendship request on Facebook later, but rest assured I will do so VERY RELUCTANTLY.

My ex-girlfriend used to insist on being friendly with everyone. She'd tell me sometimes that some of her friends were friends of convenience who she probably wouldn't hang out with under other circumstances. Every time she told me this, a different part of my brain would not-so-spontaneously combust. I could not wrap my head around the idea that she was friends with people just for the sake of being friends and this was ESPECIALLY difficult to grasp with bits of my skull exploding. One time after a particularly nasty grey matter eruption (thesaurus in action), I had to relearn how to smile. Not that anyone noticed... and actually it's possible I forgot how while I was busy not making friends with people and generally being grumpy.

It wasn't hard for her to make friends and that made the whole thing that much more confusing. She just wanted to fit in. Now I'm not saying that she would have joined the Nazi party if she lived in 1930's Germany just because everyone else was doing it, I'm just saying that she's my ex-girlfriend, so I've got a lot of mean, irrelevant things to say about her.

Anyway, is there a rational reason to be annoyed at social butterflies? Probably not. It's a good instinct. People like that get good jobs and probably run into good people eventually. And I know I've got quite a few social butterflies among my friends. Let's face it, they're very nice people.

Still, I take close friendships very seriously and that whole butterfly thing probably isn't ever going to take root with me. Not just because I'm a dude and thus can't relate to butterflies or because I feel compelled to include something about explosions in everything I write in a very un-butterfly-like fashion.

No, it's mostly because I want my friends to matter. What is the point of thinking about explosions constantly unless you've got someone relevant to discuss it with? What's the point of having discussions about explosions unless you've got someone to reminisce about it with later? What's the point of reminiscing about talking about stuff blowing up unless the person you're reminiscing with really matters to you?

When I'm old and senile, I don't want to look back at my life and think, "Well, that certainly was an interesting, but forgettable cast of revolving characters in the long-running TV sitcom that metaphorically represents my life!" I want to think, "Hey, I wonder what happened to that guy who played my best friend in seasons 8 through 79. Oh, that's right... he's right here next to me talking about explosions."