where everyone knows your name

Today I learned that being in a small town creeps me out.

Which is kind of hilarious, since I was here for 18 years and not creeped out. “Here”, of course, being my hometown of Marquette. In hindsight, it really isn’t that small of a town (it’s the biggest in the U.P), but small enough. All of the college kids are slowly trekking home, and apparently, we all like to hang out at the same places.

This is Kaufman Auditorium. It’s a historic centerpiece of Marquette, and is technically a part of the public school system, so it’s a favorite for all of the school concerts. Boyfriend and I decided to hit up the high school’s Holiday Band Concert (we’re both band geek alums).

Almost immediately, though, we were pointing out people we knew in the crowd. “Oh, look, there’s Anne! Hey, Ellen! I see the Luoma family–” Which was fine and cute and all. It was a band concert for our old high school, so obviously, we would see a lot of fellow college-age alum. But at Econo Foods afterwards, and the gym earlier in the day, and at Culver’s afterwards… I wasn’t expecting to continue to run into a million friends, acquaintances, what have you.

Awkward.

Generally, it’s fun. My parents were excited when I told them about it. “Isn’t that fun, to see all your old friends?!” In a way, sure. But I was also kind of creeped out. There was something reassuring in the anonymity of East Lansing that isn’t here in Marquette — a pressure to always look good, always have pleasant conversation and small talk at the ready, and be extremely aware and conscious of what you’re doing at all times. You never know who’s watching.

Friends have always told me I seem like a “big city kind of girl”. I have to agree. And I guess this just proves it, hm?

lean on me

Y’know, I’ve always prided myself on being the column of advice. Or something like that. I’m the listener, the sympathizer, the third party opinion. I take in all the complaints patiently, I ask attentive and caring questions, and I offer my opinion and advice in a following course of action. It’s a role I took on unobtrusively, without noticing or particularly making an effort. And sometimes I’ll snip about it, that I’m too nice, why does so and so always talk to me about this.

But the truth is I love it. Maybe it makes me feel that people value my opinion, or hold me in high esteem. They see me as someone intelligent who is capable of giving sound advice, whose view is worth knowing. They basically trust me enough with their secrets or problems, and trust me to guide them in a positive direction. It’s extremely flattering and I’ve learned to be proud of it.

Today I learned that my friends maybe don’t really need me anymore.

At least in that regard, I don’t know, maybe they still need me for something as asinine as my company (I wouldn’t say I’ve ever really been pleasurable company). But my role as negotiator, listener, advisor has diminished further and further — or I’ve been replaced with someone else and have thus been informed of this replacement. It hurts a little when the latter happens, really.

But J used to call me with all of his problems, all the time, and now I never hear from him. He can scarcely pretend it’s because he doesn’t need it anymore, the crazy girlfriend is more than enough. T went through a breakup and doesn’t want to talk to me about it. I can’t say I blame him, he’s upset obviously, but I’m the one who’s supposed to be the perfect shoulder to cry on about things like that. And A is learning to stand up for herself and get some respect and doesn’t need me as a bodyguard: apparently there was a little bitching-boxing-jerk-punching-bag match out by the garbage dumpster that I am sad to say I missed.

If I sound all miserable and broken up about it, truly, I’m not. Maybe just a little disappointed and wistful. In some cases, like A, it’s brilliant — good for her taking care of things herself. But I still wish I was held in enough confidence and regard to be there to comfort some people.