That Friend…

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By Radical Rhymes

We all have difficult friends, don’t we? They come in all shapes and sizes, as do the difficulties they present for us. Being an ex-academic the temptation is always to categorise, to create typologies. So, not to disappoint here’s an off-the-cuff beginning:

• The socially unaware friend – that person who will vigorously demonstrate a dance move or sporting action regardless of their surroundings
• The argumentative friend – they could start a fight in a room on their own, but in public you usually end up bailing them out of trouble
• The borrower friend – books, clothes, money, nothing is sacred, and they never return everything they borrow
• The worm tongue friend – quietly, gradually, they undermine your self-esteem and bring you into their own unhappiness

• The loose cannon friend – for some reason you can’t remember any more you got to know them and you carried on with the friendship even though they can go off like a landmine, and you always feel like you’ve taken up residence in the Twilight Zone.

I could go on with this, create a fancy table, put in some academic theories and support it with some data, and I’d have a potential paper. Mind you, I’d have to find the right journal and hope that the reviewers were open to ideas that they themselves didn’t come up with in order to get it published. Well, okay I sprinkled a little bitterness there, but it’s not wholly untrue.

Anyway, the long and short of it is that we all have friends that we suffer with or from, but what I want to write about here is THAT friend, the one who always has to be right. They cannot bear to be wrong under any circumstances. What shall we call them? I know, the Renard friend…

If you haven’t had the pleasure, it can be incredibly wearing. These people would stand over your death bed with evidence that something you said, a throwaway remark several years ago, was, in fact wrong. Arrggghhhh!!!!

My own initiation into this kind of friendship came early on. Walking to school, probably around eight years of age, with my best friend who lived a few doors away, we were talking about the episode of a programme I was currently in love with. I was just outlining the plot and getting to a part that had intrigued and terrified me, when he stopped me mid flow and said: ‘That didn’t happen’.

What? I thought I’d misheard, so after a short pause, I started again. Nope. It wasn’t that I’d misheard him, he was actually telling me that my interpretation of a scene in a TV programme he hadn’t watched, was incorrect. I am not someone who enjoys arguments, but I had to stand my ground. Predictably, it descended into a massive row and we didn’t speak for weeks. I wish now that it had been a permanent rift, but we live and learn.

It didn’t end there though, my association with the Renard friend, was only just beginning.

During my time in the civil service I came across several people like that, some I would call friends, some I wouldn’t. One was a young woman I replaced in post because she’d been promoted. She was not a gracious soul eager to help the new kid, she was always more than willing to publicise my mistakes, and when she wasn’t ratting me out, she was revelling in my misery. She knew everything (in theory) and it drove me nuts.

But the worst know-it-all friends I encountered worked in academia. I suppose that it’s an occupational hazard really, as a lecturer, you are classed as an expert, and such individuals struggle with not knowing something. Academics, and I include myself, are frequently insecure people looking to shore up their inadequacies with intellectual achievements and the recognition offered by other clever people. It doesn’t work for everyone, which is why some are so brittle when challenged.

I even had a friend, a senior academic, who, on the morning of my viva (the oral examination you need to ‘pass’ to obtain your doctorate), told me what my PhD was REALLY about. It was not the best preparation! The last thing you need before facing the firing squad is someone handing you a bullet-proof vest made out of paper!

Thankfully, I didn’t take their assessment seriously, but I was so overwrought and stressed that on a different day I might have entered the dragon’s lair completely befuddled and blown it entirely.

These days I don’t have someone like that in my life, I’ve had my fill of it, the drain on my credulity and patience is just too much to stomach. However, watching my sons navigate their young relationships I’ve seen a few individuals that fit the criteria. I should warn them, shouldn’t I? But we both know they won’t listen, after all, they know everything!

Joking!

Radical Rhymes is a professional artist working with a range of media – predominantly animal/human portraits and landscapes – including, most recently, hand painted furniture. You can see his work on Instagram Radicalrhymes1969 or on Twitter @RhymesRadical.

For commissions, please contact him on Twitter via Direct Message or by email at: radicalrhymes@outlook.com His work is also available to buy on Etsy

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