Of course no one can tell anyone else about this and the observation does carry with it the whiff of old age and sour grapes, but check it out -- sometimes the bedroom ceiling really does reach out forever at 3 a.m. Neat and clean and can-do turns messy and dirty and can't. Rushing away into some electronic hug becomes inadequate and pale. The tribes of improvement -- religions and exercises and verbiage and who knows what all else -- ah ... wouldn't a friend be nice? Someone with whom to break the bread of whatever brick wall has been erected and maintained.
A friend is the one who knew and knows you are an asshole, just like everyone else ... and vice versa. Let's get past it and sip beer and don't, as my mother suggested, "get too holy by next Thursday."