Royal we...or is it me?

Maybe it's just my crowd. 

Pretty much the minute someone couples up, formally or otherwise, a new protocol slips into place: love to see you--come hang out with us! 

Over Christmas, I took 3 days of vacation and traveled 1,000 miles (again) to a part of the country I detest to visit my brother Ben. We've always had a mellow relationship, even more so now that our parents are gone. But as usual, I had to pry him loose from the swarm of relatives connected to his first and now second marriages to have any time for the two of us. I went home feeling gypped.

I called him two weeks later and told him I didn't get enough of him in all the chaos holidays. "Same here," Ben said. "Would you come my way in the spring?" I asked him. "Lizzie just isn't made for the city, Sydney. Could you meet us halfway?" he wanted to know. 

While I was fighting for time with Ben, against all odds my friend Matthew was morphing from committed single to married. Matthew and I go back 10+ years. In different sectors of the same industry, we have the same politics, volunteer for the same organization and are both musicians. After living with Paula for two years, during which time Matthew and I sustained our friendship, they got married on Christmas Eve. 

Riding in a taxi, on my way to the airport last week, I texted Matthew inviting him to a concert. He accepted and offered to deal with the tickets since I was on the run. Nice. A few minutes later, he texted an update: Three tickets, row H. Can't wait. So instead of an the old-shoe evening I imagined, we'll be "Getting to know you..." 

"Getting to know you..."