Esther

From “Checkbox Commitment,” my latest Jewish Week singles column…

In high school, my friends and I used to pass notes to each other. The notes could be anywhere from one sentence to several pages, depending on how prolific (or bored) we were feeling. Often, we talked about boys — who we liked, who we couldn’t believe liked us and who broke our hearts by telling us that they liked our friends. Occasionally, a note would read: “Do you like [name of boy]? Check one box.” You’d consider the boxes (“yes,” “no,” and “maybe”) and make a selection. That action of checking a single box was the ultimate commitment of the moment: it could determine your romantic pursuits for the foreseeable future.

For the entire article, click here.

My latest singles article, “Who Your Friends Are,” appeared in last week’s Jewish Week.

You probably use the F-word way more than you should — with your boss, with your relatives, with others in your social circles. You probably don’t even think about it; you say it, and don’t even remember what it means. In most cases, it doesn’t even apply. Today, when people are in constant communication even if there’s a minimal offline relationship, it’s hard to know who to call “friend.”When we were kids, we proved closeness by proudly reciting our friends’ phone numbers. But between land line, cell number, office number, multiple e-mail addresses and the universal use of speed dial, most people can’t keep their personal Rolodexes in their heads anymore. (Cue a new generation that puzzles, “What’s a Rolodex?” and immediately returns its attention to its BlackBerrys, Treos or other personal digital organizer.) In college, we could just leave our dorm room doors open if we wanted to talk, but today people keep their doors closed and are reluctant to involve others in their drama. You can be in frequent contact with someone who is not your friend, and just because you’re not in constant contact doesn’t mean you’re not friends. The people you’ve known the longest don’t necessarily know you the best, although they once might have. Sometimes someone you just met seems like family from the first minute of your interaction, creating an intimacy that you may never develop with people you’ve known for years. It seems like the essential nature of friendship has changed.Especially in New York, the word “friend” is invoked so casually that it’s not an indicator of any intimacy. “My friend’s in a play” usually means that the performer is someone you met in improv class and haven’t seen in two years. “My friend writes for ‘Letterman'” means you know someone whose friend writes for Letterman — it doesn’t mean that you are any closer to Dave and Paul Shaffer and late-night superstardom than any other person. “I want to set you up with a friend of mine” may mean that the friend offering the setup met a guy through work and found out he was single. We never know.

When you’re single, you’ve got lots of friends. They’re locals, people you hang out with, go to movies with and suffer through singles events with. But you probably don’t call them unless you have to. (E-mail is easier.) Part of the community, they’re “friends from shul”; you probably know basic information about them (“she’s in finance” or “he’s a student”), but lack additional details. You’ve been to their homes for group meals; you may not even know their last names and find yourself calling them “taller Mike” and “shorter Mike,” or “teacher Rachel” and “social worker Rachel.” They’re there. But on a daily basis, you’re not actively aware of them; they’re a part of your environment, like the meridian that runs up and down Broadway.

When you meet someone new, there’s a slim window for romance. But as Avenue Q’s Kate Monster put it, there’s a fine line between love and a waste of your time. If you’re lucky, the connection remains special even as it transitions into friendship. If you’re not, after running into each other on the way home from the gym or running errands, the relationship is subsumed into the wider circle. If they’re all “friends,” they become like ATMs or Duane Reades — generic, replaceable. Wait a few blocks and there’ll be another one.

But sometimes you need a friend, in those moments when the world seems so overwhelming and you just need help. You know people — your e-mail list is longer than a congressional filibuster, and between MySpace, Friendster and Facebook, you’ve got hundreds of “friends.” But when it really counts, who are you gonna call?

Fortunately, having many people in your emotional Rolodex — or BlackBerry — gives you a choice. If you need someone to hold you while you cry, you call one person. If you need someone to suggest a blueprint for change, you call someone else. If what you need to do is not talk, but just type until things feel better, you probably have people for that too. Sometimes you need someone who understands your specific personal or professional context. Here, technology enables you to customize your support system and, after careful thought, define for yourself what it means to be a friend.

Perhaps technology has forever changed the nature of friendship. But hopefully it also pays us a communal dividend. People who have good friends have examples to follow; people who have friends make better friends.

Esther D. Kustanowitz doesn’t really know where most of her friends work, and hopes that doesn’t make her a bad friend. You can contact her at jdatersanonymous@gmail.com