Hi, my name is Emeline Jean Hutton (yes I gave you my full government name), and I am the funny friend.
However, this isn’t the class clown type of funny—unfortunately I was not nominated for that high school superlative—but the kind of funny friend that makes you laugh even when you’re mad or tired, and the friend you can always trust to put a smile on your face. That kind of funny friend is me.
When it comes to acting stupid, or completely ridiculous, I’ve never had much of a problem. I also pride myself in knowing that I’m the most entertaining employee in my workplace. I chalk it up to my varying sense of humor which is—at all times—unpredictable. If you want dark humor, stupid humor, or morally questionable humor I’ve got you covered.
Being the funny friend is great since my friends know, and acknowledge, the fact that there’s a certain lack of energy when I’m not around. I’ve also been described as the “party” and the most “irrational,” but I’ve definitely grown out of the latter.
In my mind there are certain categories of friends: parents, emotional support, decisive, reliable and brutally honest. Even though there are multiple individual categories, some friends can cross over and be a mix. I’ve never been labeled as the parent, emotional support, decisive or reliable and for good reason. I don’t have a mom purse to fix all my friends’ scrapes and bruises, I am emotionally unavailable and shut down when people cry around me, and sometimes I ditch on plans because my social battery is dead (sue me, we all ditch on plans).
When it comes to brutal honesty and comedy, I’m your gal. Sometimes I feel like everyone has me on speed dial when they’re desperately in need of some comic relief, or for me to tell them the guy they like is in fact not busy, he’s just ghosting them.
However, being the funny friend is sometimes not all it’s cracked up to be. I hadn’t realized until lately that my friends don’t view me as having any other emotion than happiness, since I’m so often the one bringing them that happiness as well. I don’t ever express any other strong emotion just because I’m not comfortable with it, and I prefer to deal with all the other gunk of life privately.
I came to this revelation during a depressive episode. I think I was going on day two of not eating, night three of crying into my pillow, and I’d still wake up in the morning and greet my roommates with a smile. They never figured out what was going on, and never would’ve known if I didn’t tell them. This is the toxic cycle of being the funny friend. People never realize that there’s anything else behind the comedy, jokes and laughter. How are they supposed to when all of your interactions include smiles?
Being the funny friend is great don’t get me wrong, but that’s not entirely who I am, who we are. I’ve gone through some of the worst moments of my life cracking jokes like none other. Most of the time general humor is used as a coping or defense mechanism anyways, so it makes sense that we use that humor to mask any other pain and to distract ourselves.
It’s uncomfortable to talk about some things, and that’s just another joy of life. However, it’s not the smartest move to avoid uneasy subjects for the rest of eternity, even though sometimes I wish I could.
In hindsight, sometimes I wish I hadn’t been the funny friend. However, in foresight I’ve realized that I can be the funny friend, but still know when to ask for help and tell the people around me what’s going on.
It’s impossible to be happy all the time, and irresponsible to throw a mask over any other emotion. I’ve realized that thoroughly through retrospect.
For the time being I will continue being the funny friend, but I think I can pass that mantle to another one of my friends for a while the next time I need it. Okay, now I’ve got to go work on my Jennifer Coolidge impression (which is actually better than I’d like to admit), so I’ll catch you next time.