Yes, and Friends

I firmly believe that most people can be categorized into one of two types of friends: “Yes, and” friends and “No, but” friends. I have always been a “No, but” person. The irony of this is that while I also have and enjoy knowing many “No, but” friends who also like spending their time watching tv, I have attracted many “Yes, and” ones working alongside them. The “Yes, and” friends come in many forms, for example, I have a friend who believes she can do pretty much anything she sets her mind to.  

My sister is like this, where she will always underestimate how long a job will take. I, in turn, refuse to start tasks because of how difficult and unmanageable I anticipate them being. This feels like more of a tactic to get out of doing my chores, constantly convincing myself that I’m running out of time to accomplish what has historically taken me minutes. Meanwhile, she has successfully installed a hanging light fixture in my living room in three hours, a trip to her house to get her tools, several calls to our dad and her boyfriend, all after saying it would take us five minutes if we “worked quickly”. My sister is a “Yes, and” friend. I love this quality in others but can’t visualize what it would look like for myself. I would have given up on this job at the first sign of difficulty. I wouldn’t have called anyone or left the house to get tools from a second location. 

Once, after moving into a new apartment, I had been slowly unpacking boxes and rearranging my life to take up a bigger space for myself. Weeks had passed and I still had one random box filled with items I didn’t know what to do with. I meant to donate or recycle some of them, but mainly I wanted to put them out on the street so passersby could look and take whatever caught their attention. After my good “Yes, and” friend had come over and we both had had a couple of glasses of wine one Friday night, months after I had moved in, she looked at my box and exclaimed, “Let’s get rid of it tonight!” I responded to her by looking scared. That was my last box. It had been sitting in my hallway for months now and its presence gave me comfort. What would I do without it? Have an unobstructed hallway leading to both ends of my apartment? 

Without her insistence, that box would still be in my hallway. This moment made me feel so truly connected to her. Her “Yes, and”ing made it so that I could clear my hallway (and headspace) to accommodate my shoes and side table. It finally looked lived in and not like I had just moved there. She wanted what was best for me, recognized a hangup that I wasn’t addressing myself, and took control of the situation. She wasn’t pushy when we found a sharpie amongst my shit and wrote “Free stuff” on the side of the box. We nearly skipped down the stairs and front walkway to the curb of my apartment building. When I came back upstairs, we finished our wine feeling considerably lighter, after having unloaded my last connection to the big move. 

“Yes and” friends hate excuses. They waste no time between having a thought that needs actioning and taking action. They don’t leave any time to think twice or to review options. “Yes, and” friends start their chores right away, so that they can get to whatever fun activity they had planned afterwards. They’re free to enjoy themselves guiltlessly because they thought ahead and got to work. They’re important in that way. 

I will always look for the path of least resistance. But I still love to do fun things. I love an assignment or a task and I love to cross items off my to-do list. “Yes, and” friends take this desire for action, but lack of follow-through, personally. If there is an inkling that I may be interested in doing something, they immediately start turning wheels in their brains to make it work. “Yes, and friends” make it their mission to force you to go outside and to have fun. Where would we be without these friends? Likely in your home, relaxing and enjoying food you made.

If you are neither a “Yes, and” friend or a “No, but” friend, maybe you fall into the “Okay, maybe” category. You are whatever friends are leftover. Sometimes a “no, but” friend” can be roused from their slumber and evolve into an “Okay, maybe” type. Sometimes “Okay, maybes” just don’t know what they’re missing out on. Or they don’t care. The importance of the “Okay, maybe” friend is that they’re open and willing to try getting involved in whatever the “Yes, and” friends are cooking. And they’re equally as jazzed to spend a day sitting on a beach somewhere, reading books with their “No, but” friends. They’re transient and malleable. They love to participate and they love to sit out. They’re versatile in a way that “No, but” and “Yes, and” friends aren’t. They’re important. 

Once, when on a work trip to Nairobi, a “Yes, and” colleague and now “Yes, and” friend made it clear that she would not accept my justifications for staying in my room. I had my period. I was jet lagged (so was she). I ate something weird last night at dinner and now felt like my stomach was unsettled. I had too much work to do, too many emails to write, too many FaceTime calls to my parents to make. On our last full day, we finished our meetings early and had some time to visit a safari. Our other colleagues were up for the trip (a half hour car ride each way and a 2 hour safari to see giraffes, monkeys, zebras, etc). After patiently listening to my excuses, she looked me in the eyes and said “Later, you will regret not coming with us. And you will be mad at yourself for giving up on this opportunity. How often are we all in Kenya together?” She was right and when my body and brain were both prepping me for the best mid-afternoon nap of my life, I went back to my room to change into my walking clothes and charge my phone for photos. 

She was, obviously, right, and we had a great time. She has since used this example every time she’s tried to get me to go out with her to do something. Most of the time, it’s worth it. Sometimes, we end up in a giant shopping mall in Vegas breathing recycled air, feeling disconnected and like the nap would have been ten times better. But the times where I’ve gotten out and enjoyed myself make these instances a small price to pay. 

“Yes, and” friends know exactly what to say to get you moving. They know what will immediately instill fear in your heart, and what memories you will be foregoing to sit on your couch a little longer. “Yes, and” friends are essential when you’re on the cusp of deciding whether or not you want to try that new restaurant when they swoop in and make up your mind for you. They’re perfect for non-committals like me.