At our just-for-shits-and-giggles-non-legally binding 2012 big gay wedding we invited our closest friends and select family, 75 people. This past Saturday when we appeased the suddenly-progressive legislative gods in Harrisburg with our legal wedding, we had two guests — our kids. We used to be very social people. We used to host parties. We used to have a lot of friends. The same people I would routinely see four hours a days five days a week I now see maybe once a year.
I sometimes think people are still waiting for us to host the party or organize the dinner, but then I realize that they’re all hosting their own parties and organizing their own dinners. I keep expecting the phone to ring, but it never does because we aren’t invited. The cynic in me thinks it’s because we no longer have anything to offer, that we fell out of fashion, but the truth is things are different. And not just for us. For everyone. Life went on. While we were busy having kids, all of those friends we used to see every day have been living their lives, forging new relationships, moving into new homes, starting new jobs, creating new paths that just don’t include us.
Sometimes I feel bad that I no longer see these people. Some days I mourn the perceived loss of those friendships. I admonish myself for not being a better friend, for not keeping in contact, for not hosting that party. I tell myself that all the other parents out there still see their friends every day, still host big parties, still stay out until midnight on a school night eating wings and singing karaoke at the Rivertowne.
Of course even if that were true — and I doubt it is — those parents have had a lifetime with their kids. They had nine months to prepare and then every day thereafter to enjoy. Chris turns 9 tomorrow and two years ago we didn’t even know he existed. Elijah has been in our house for less than two weeks. I don’t want to miss a minute with them because I’ve already missed so many. I need to drink up the now before they grow up and resent me.
So I’m sorry I never see you anymore. I wish I did. Maybe one day I will. And to the person a few weeks ago who mentioned that we should have them over to our house: I’ll pencil that in for sometime in late 2023.