There seems to me that there is a growing online currency standard these days. You see it under photos of matching outfits, identical aesthetics, shared political rants, or niche genre-loving fans: "If you get this, you are my people." We are encouraged to hunt for our "clan" - a curated group of mirrors who think exactly like us, behave like us, and validate our every opinion.
I am sure it sounds comforting to some, but for me, it is a lie. Real life doesn’t thrive in an echo chamber, nor does real friendship.
This past weekend, my wife and I stood in the residents' enclosure at the Royal Ascot races. We were situated right at the side of the track, exactly in front of the Royal Box, watching as the King and Queen rolled to a stop in their open-top car, climbed out and entered the stands. Beside us on either side, men removed top hats in honour of the King’s arrival at the playing of the anthem. Women dressed in fine outfits, expensive shoes and dramatic fascinators stood by their partners to enjoy the pageantry.
But this world of strict dress codes did not apply to us in our enclosure. We weren’t there because we belong to high society; we were there because our closest friends live at and manage the Ascot Golf Course clubhouse.
Consequently, we wore clothing fit for the heatwave. My rags consisted of denim shorts and a short-sleeve white shirt printed with tiny blue palm trees. The rest of our group also wore what was comfortable for the heat rather than what fitted the requirements of the paying attendees. As I looked at us all, amidst the pomp and circumstance on manicured lawns, I had a sudden, grounded realization: I bought these people, and they are the best investment I ever made.
The Sixteen-Year Transaction
Sixteen years ago, my wife and I handed over our hard-earned cash to sign up for National Childbirth Trust (NCT) antenatal classes. We were just terrified first-time parents-to-be, looking for a survival guide.
There were seven couples in that room, all thrown together by the sheer coincidence of a shared due date. We were a random assortment of strangers gripping hot mugs of tea, bracing for the unknown. Sixteen years later, six of those couples have drifted into the background of memory, but one couple remained: the Temples.
Who knows what it is that first draws people together? Maybe it was my thinking that the husband, Stuart, strongly resembled Charley Boorman while I washed up mugs in the kitchen with him. Maybe it was the wife, Stacy, marvelling at the footwear my wife had been forced to wear due to the significant swelling of her feet. It could be several things, or it could just be that we found no need to wear masks with these people.
Pregnancy has a strange power of removing awkwardness. The women are resigned to fighting with constant discomfort, while the men feel entirely clumsy and useless all the while. The overall impact is a collective acceptance of "no one gets out of this unscathed," and that understanding lowers the walls.
Together, we suffered through lessons on breathing exercises, breastfeeding, baby monitors and the infamous “Poo Spectrum.” We learned how to wrap dolls in blankets, shared our perfectly curated scenes of how the births were supposed to play out and groaned when told it was likely to be far from anything we imagined. Add this to the pub visits and coffee mornings and we grew a bond that defied the odds.
We all made it through what we met to prepare for in those classes. We even decided to go through the ordeal a second time (without the classes) to tick our offspring numbers up to two each. Today, we love their two children as our own. Likewise, there is no doubt they protect and love our two in much the same way. We have transitioned from anxious parents wondering how to survive the first night, to watching our babies step into young adulthood.
The Power of Contrast
But here is the truth that the internet gets wrong about "finding your people": The Temples and us are entirely different.
If we had used the modern checklist for friendship...
- Shared hobbies
- Music tastes aligned
- Identical worldviews
- Matching temperaments
- Etc.
…we might have walked right past each other. On paper, we don't fit into the same neat little box, but it is precisely the difference that makes us work.
Our friendship wasn't built on being clones; it was built on contrast. When you find people who are different from you, they don't just validate you; they stretch you. They offer a perspective you haven’t seen and fill the gaps in your armour.
Your true people aren't the ones who nod along with your every foolish idea just to keep the peace. Your true people are the ones who look you dead in the eye, laugh, and say:
"I love you dearly, but you are being an absolute fool right now."
They are the ones who can shoot you down with affection, ground you when you get ahead of yourself and stand by you when the world gets too heavy. They don't mirror your perfections; they hold you together through the grit.
Beyond the Shared Situation
We were brought together by a shared situation - the impending arrival of our first children. That was the catalyst, but a shared situation only gets you through the front door. Otherwise, we would have six other couples circling through our social calendars. Instead, for nearly two decades, we have shared a willingness to embrace the friction of our differences and are richer for it.
So, forget the online search for a flawless, like-minded clan. “Birds of a feather flock together,” for sure, but when all are headed south to seek out gloss, what of the ones that are happy to embrace the grit? What if we looked for the people who challenge us, who laugh at a different beat, but who show up when you are on your knees, trying to pull the pieces of your heart back together with shaking hands?
For the Bones Clan, it might have cost the price of an antenatal class to find them, but there is no doubt in my mind: they are worth every single penny.
Bones
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