Different friends hold different purposes in our lives. We’ve got our partners-in-crime, our tried & trues, our work cohorts & our advice-givers. We turn to them for different reasons and at different times, be it for a night on the town or a pat on the back. This support network is invaluable.

I was talking with one of my advice-givers yesterday about this, that and the other (or was it the other, that & this? Who knows…) and, as usual, the conversation led to relationships and the many misinterpretations that occur within. Why is lack of communication usually the deal breaker in a relationship? Whoops, am getting ahead of myself. Let me take a step back…

You see, this past Spring, my friend had liked this girl, they had gone out a few times, and things seemed to be going well. They had a great time talking, emailing, going out. They were attracted to another, looking for the same things in life, and both unattached. Then, without much notice, she ended things. (On voicemail, no less.) A bit hurt, a bit disillusioned, he wondered what happened. Not the first time you’ve heard this story, now, is it?

He turned to me for advice a few months later, because somewhat out of the blue, she began emailing him again. They were cute, flirty, intelligent emails that didn’t by any means cross the line into impropriety, and they definitely piqued his interest as he never got an explanation (nor closure) regarding this girl. There seemed to be a pattern of what I call “the rubberband theory”, where whenever he took a step forward, she pulled back, and vice versa. The same ol’ song and dance.

I like to pride myself in giving good advice. (It’s the TAKING my own advice that I struggle with, but that’s another topic for another day, another place.) I’ve soothed crying family members, encouraged down-in-the-dumps dumpees to get back out there, tried to advise people to be the bigger person, even when being the bigger person is anything but fun. I try to think my advice helps, and though would never push it on anyone, want my friends to know that I’m here to give it. Such was this case.

After hearing the full story (and trust me, there were so many twists and turns in here that it rivaled Lombard Street in complexity), it seemed to boil down to an issue of attention. Namely, she liked knowing that he liked her and was flattered by it, but when it came down to it, she wasn’t looking for anything serious, or at least didn’t seem to be looking for anything serious with him. Throw in a bit of immaturity on her part, a bit of insecurity on his, and they had a problem here. He didn’t want to come off as too vulnerable, and felt like he was getting mixed signals. As such, from my viewpoint, I told him to play it cool. “Give a little,” I told him,” But not too much. Let her come to you.”

He completely ignored me. And good thing he did – they’re dating seriously now three months later.

Apparently, the miscommunication was vast, and only by laying his cards on the table, by having a pretty frank discussion with her about everything that happened from his vantage point, (making him completely vulnerable and something I strongly advised him against, mind you), did they begin to see where the misinterpretation occurred. If he hadn’t stepped out on the proverbial ledge, this would likely have ended as another dating casualty that we all know so well.

It’s like that rerun of Friends which, convenient for today’s post, was shown (and viewed by me) last Thursday. Phoebe was going to a party where she would likely run into her ex, and she was worried about looking fabulous and “saving face.” It’s this very issue of pride that leads us to not say what we’re thinking, to hold back, to keep our cards close to our chest. It’s this very issue of pride that causes us to stay in our safe little worlds, without risk of getting our hearts broken.

In the past, I’ve instituted “Brutally Honest Aubrey Day” where, after a few pints (or few more than you should have) you basically say what’s on your mind. Though it’s worked well,(I mean, what’s better than getting to go up to your crush and telling him that he’s hot, as mandated by a self-imposed potentially mortifying drinking game?), what’s stopping us from having these conversations sober, when we most need to have them?

Fear. Often paralyzed by potential outcomes, we hold back from saying what we need to, what we want to, a result of the ‘What If?’ syndrome that sends us into temporary vulnerable paralysis. As a result, we inherently choose the safe route or by refusing to choose, we’re, in essence, making a choice to do nothing, to stagnate, to become comfortable with the reality instead of looking for something more, something potentially amazing and better and scary and possible. A vicious cycle, and frightening choice.

Wonder if I’ll take my own advice this time.