I sometimes wonder if my friends need me or want me. It’s a fine line, really. A philosophical conundrum that has been rattling around in my head ever since my husband—then boyfriend—asked me a very pointed question: “Do you want me to go or do you need me to go?”
The setting? A Publix parking lot. The occasion? My first Christmas tree purchase in years. I was newly back from New York, still figuring out where I wanted to live, and in the midst of this existential transition, I thought, “What’s the one thing that could bring me a sense of home? A Christmas tree.”
Minor complications:
My boyfriend was Jewish.
The whole idea felt a bit foreign to him.
Yet, because he cared about me and wanted to support whatever made me happy, he agreed to meet me for this seemingly small but meaningful errand. Still, he asked that one question: Want or need?
Now, I knew how to play this game. This was a test. If I said “want,” he might have gently suggested I could handle it solo. But “need”? That was the golden ticket. So, naturally, I answered, “I need you to go.”
Fast-forward to now, and I realize I’m constantly applying this same mental framework to my friendships. I don’t outright ask them, because let’s be honest, people in moments of crisis don’t want a pop quiz on emotional hierarchy. But I wonder.
There are the times when they truly need me—to talk them off a ledge, to help them make a tough decision, to remind them that they are, in fact, capable human beings. And then there are the times when I suspect they just want me—to sit through an agonizingly long text exchange about whether or not they should take that last-minute trip, to listen to the same relationship drama they refuse to take action on, or to serve as an emotional life raft so they don’t have to do the heavy lifting on their own.
Each friend needs something different from me. Some need tough love, others need a safe place to vent, and some just need a reminder that they are not alone. But what they all have in common is my commitment to honesty, frankness, and a little bit of spiritual guidance—whether they ask for it or not. I don’t sugarcoat things, and I won’t just tell them what they want to hear. My role is to help them see their own strength, to offer perspective, and to remind them that life’s messiest moments often lead to the most growth. It’s not always easy, and it’s not always fun, but being that person for them is something I wouldn’t trade for anything.
So, dear friends, if you ever wonder why I sometimes take a long pause before responding, know that in my mind, I’m standing in that Publix parking lot, deciding if this is a Christmas tree moment or not. Yes, yes, I am Jewish now, so let’s call it a Hanukkah bush moment instead.
