Brigit Len Tabuena

Have you ever noticed how your friends are more curious about your boyfriend than your best friend from home?

As a proud member of the single population here at Bowdoin, I’ve started to notice a pattern of how the attention tends to drift toward my friends’ boyfriends rather than my friends. During Ivies, I met a number of significant others visiting, and it was genuinely fun. But when two of my friends from home came to visit, my Bowdoin friends seemed momentarily disoriented: “Wait, who are they again? Who’s visiting?” And just like that, I found myself explaining people who have, in many ways, made me who I am.

There are different standards when it comes to asking about the people in your life. I would even argue that many people don’t know much about your siblings, which, as we established in October, can say quite a lot about you. So why is it that curiosity about someone’s romantic life feels more immediate, more necessary, than curiosity about their platonic one? The follow-up question is always, “And are you seeing someone?” or “How is he?” What about that friend of mine I’ve known since I was four? The one who knows every corner of my brain. She’s halfway across the country now, and yet she doesn’t make the cut.

This is all theoretical, of course. I’m not just venting. (Though I sometimes worry that people read my column and think my journal entries accidentally got published.) But still, it feels worth asking: When did we begin to treat romantic relationships as inherently more interesting than the other relationships that sustain us?

Consider this: Post-grad, it feels entirely reasonable to say, “I want to move to Indonesia with my girlfriend.” It sounds ambitious, romantic and full of possibility. But say you want to move in with your best friend, the person you grew up with. It somehow reads as a compromise. Not undesirable, just … less compelling. Why does familiarity seem to diminish value? Why does newness so easily translate to importance?

Maybe it’s because we’re drawn to the idea of reinvention. And I don’t see anything wrong with that. But if you’re planning a life in Indonesia, wouldn’t it be a safer bet to do it with the person who has already seen you grow up? That friend from home has everything to do with who you are today. You grew up together. You witnessed each other morph into the adults you are now.

I’m not saying you shouldn’t take risks or move across the world with someone who excites you. I’m simply suggesting that we not forget the people who knew us at thirteen when we were cringey, in braces, buying our first bras together. We have been conditioned to constantly want more. More money, more devices, more friends, more traveling, more stories to tell. And naturally, that desire extends to love. But sometimes, the most substantial parts of our lives are not the freshest ones, but the ones that have lasted the longest.

So, ask a question about who has stayed. Ask about their childhood dog, their siblings, grandparents, godmothers and their favorite hike back home. The best people are the ones who ask the right questions.