I came to a startling revelation a few months ago. I don't have any friends. I don't. I have a lot of acquaintances but, other than my wife, I really have no close friends.
I've had some friends in the past, but not many. Eventually something happened-nothing sinister, just something like moving, having a baby, changing jobs, building a home, going back to school, changing churches. Nothing bad or wrong, just something that happened-and the next thing I knew, another friendship slowly eroded.
There are half a dozen guys whom I consider to be close, caring people I always look forward to being with. They are people who accept me as I am.
But a close friend? Nope. Not one.
I have been wondering why for a long time. After some painful soul-searching, I think I have discovered the reasons.
My busy-ness myth
I am too busy. I am gone too much, travel too much, speak too much, and work too much. I have done an excellent job of convincing the people around me that I am too busy—too ...1