A Modest answer for tough times
In relationship struggles, even a magic dragon might be roaring in your head
“I ran my mouth off a bit too much, oh what did I say? Well, you just laughed it off, it was all OK.”
That’s from “Float On,” a 2004 song from Modest Mouse about being optimistic amid life’s setbacks, whether you’re getting scammed or being fired or backing into a police car.
But what if your friend doesn’t laugh it off? What if it’s not OK? You may need to hum a different tune — maybe one by Timbaland, or Peter, Paul and Mary. You might even need to call in Johnny Carson.
There’s all sorts of expert advice about how to apologize, and that certainly helps if you can’t find the words and are trying to make it right.
Back when the world was normal, if you screwed up with a housemate or snapped at a co-worker, you could supplement the apology by being extra nice for a few days. And as long as it wasn’t something horrid like abuse or betrayal, that would usually be enough. We all make mistakes.
But if it’s someone you see only once in a while, hurt feelings can fester, and you might underestimate how severe they are, especially if you mostly text each other. Maybe you let them down or said the wrong thing. Maybe a suggestion came across as criticism. Maybe a joke fell flat, or you had a generational or cultural misunderstanding.
You might not even be the villain. It could be a genuine misunderstanding, but that doesn’t matter if the texts stop coming or you get unfriended on Facebook.
That’s where Johnny Carson comes in. He hosted “The Tonight Show” for 30 years starting in 1962, and people loved him not just because he made a good joke funny, although he did, but because he made a bad joke even funnier.
Carson was the master of the save, laughing at himself and getting us to laugh with him. If a joke bombs, lots of comedians will try to distance themselves and move on. But Carson would embrace the bomb, often adlibbing his way past the shrapnel.
Is your friendship bomb worth saving, or is it better to just float on?
Maybe this adage will help: Comedy equals tragedy plus time. We’ve all had stuff that made us angry or stressed or sad, then ended up joking about it later. Give it a few months and the wound might heal, or your friend might be more willing to talk.
Social media might help. Have they liked any of your posts? Can you make a nice-but-not-too-personal comment on one of theirs and see how they react?
Even if the person unfriended you (or unfollowed you on Instagram or Twitter), it’s not necessarily a “stay out of my life forever” message. Maybe they wanted you to know they were upset. Maybe it hurt every time your picture popped up in their timeline. Who knows.
If you have no hint that things have defrosted, give it six more months. Then you can always send a text — something like “just thinking of you and wanted to see how things are going” — to test the temperature. Or, you know, call them.
If you were the one who got hurt, does the offense seem as bad today as it did six months ago? Could a comment have struck a nerve because of some demon in your past? That doesn’t make you wrong by any means, but it might give you a fresh insight. You don’t want to let pride or stubbornness or awkwardness lock you out of a relationship if you think it’s worth saving. You can crack the door a little, too.
That brings us to “Puff, the Magic Dragon,” which people love to believe is about drug use, but is really about lost innocence. It’s possible that one or both of you just outgrew the relationship, and any squabble simply broke the back of a feeble camel.
An attorney friend described how in a pragmatic world we might have three spouses: One for the years of finding your niche, one for settling in and possibly raising a family, one for growing old. Sometimes divorces come because the perfect spouse for one round isn’t so great for the next.
Maybe there wasn’t even a spat. Neither of you texted or called for two weeks, then it became two months, then it became too awkward. Maybe one of you moved or found a significant other or started a family, or you just grew apart.
“Without his lifelong friend,” Peter, Paul and Mary sing, “Puff could not be brave. So Puff, that mighty dragon, sadly slipped into his cave.”
Four words: Don’t you fucking dare.
Sometimes even the best of friendships die, sometimes even the best of friends do. It’s natural to feel sad when relationships end — even a short one that looked like an oasis, but turned out to be a grain of sand.
But as times change, opportunities arise. Maybe the kids are grown and you can touch base with others on social media, and connect in ways that weren’t obvious a decade ago. Maybe loneliness makes strange bedfellows. Maybe you’ve gotten calmer or kinder or wiser. Sometimes all you have to do is post a nice note for someone’s birthday and you’ll get a warm response.
Just keep trying, because it’s still easier to heal a pained heart than an empty soul. Even grain-of-sand relationships teach us valuable lessons — about human nature, about ourselves, about how even a Mighty Dragon can be saved by a Modest Mouse.
Murphy Slaw
Something old: This column got me interested in “Hamilton” years ago. It’s a wonderful story for anyone who’s a parent (or used to be a teenager). Even if you don’t care about “Hamilton,” it’s the best thing you’ll read today.
Something new: If you like podcasts, here’s a recommendation that’s not a podcast: Hark. It can link you to full podcasts, certainly, but also offers themed snippets on various subjects, like “The Story Behind the Song” and “American Scammers.” You can even save snippets and create your own theme.
Something borrowed: There’s a brief exchange near the end of “Palm Springs” that pretty well sums up true love, especially in this era.
“What if we get sick of each other?” Sarah asks.
“We’re already sick of each other,” Nyles replies. “It’s the best.”
Something blue: One of the smartest people I’ve heard talk about drug abuse, anxiety and depression is author Johann Hari, who has gone all over the world finding programs that work well. He’s featured in both of these (pre-pandemic) podcasts; some anecdotes are mentioned in both, but the first touches on meditation more, the second on addiction.
Kind of reminds me of the saying about people come into your life for a season, a reason or a lifetime. That Hamilton story was wonderful. Great work, Dave.