The Friend.

Friends ran for ten seasons; a lengthy lifespan for a television series. But, much like this phenomenon, do real friendships have an expiration date?

Whether it’s because your bum chum turns into a lover, or whether you simply move away, a change in dynamic is inevitable when it comes to primarily platonic relationships. This change can come in the form of growing ever closer, or drifting apart.

Humans are ultimately going to do wrong at some stage. And although a true friend can, at times, be upheld as some sort of modern day superhero for putting up with you, they’re no exception to this fatal flaw. But it’s how much you would forgive them for which is the greatest gage of how much they mean to you. True friends are invaluable. If you think about your best friend and are unable to bring yourself to picture your life without them in it, then they will always be there. Basically, because you won’t let them not be, regardless of the mistakes they make, or how many times they falter. I guarantee that your bestie could poke you in the eye with a needle whilst getting off with your ex and you’d still find it in your heart to forgive them.

Your school friends will have been there with you as you slowly but surely grew into your face and your teeth were being forced into alignment by, what was essentially, barbed wire. Your university companions will have cleaned up your vodka induced vomit from the kitchen sink. Your work makes will have told you, (sorry, lied to you) that your behaviour was totally acceptable on Friday night, despite falling asleep in the loo until closing time. Your gym buddies will compliment your dewy complexion after 45 minutes on the treadmill and your oldest friend will tell everybody that your family are completely normal, whilst ensuring they never, ever mention that time involving your father and a red, glittery thong.

What I guess I’m trying to say, is that a friend can come along at any time, for any length of time, and for whatever reason. You might never truly be aware of why or ever really appreciate their presence until they’re gone, but they all play a part in your story. It’s whether you want to carry them through to the next chapter which is entirely up to you. There are those who will play a leading role right up until the end, there are many who will feature fleetingly and a few that you will kill off for good reason. Regardless of this, they were a friend and we can all do with at least one at the best of times.

The only friend that I can safely say we could do without, is a “friend with benefits”. The benefits of a friendship should not fall under the same category as blow jobs in my opinion.

But who am I to classify the capacities of friendship anyway?

A true friend is like a wonderwall: completely subjective.

The way I see it, as soon as you think you’re able to make sense of how to loosely define what a friend actually is, you’ve defeated the point of them.

After all, it’s impossible to define love.

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The Valentine.

Last year I spent Valentine’s Day with my ex-boyfriend in McDonald’s which, genuinely, has been my favourite love day to date. A Big Mac and a stroll through Exeter city centre and I’m all yours, apparently. And before you assume that I was only content with such a budget date because I was a student, I can tell you that I’d still much rather sit in McDonalds getting pea-shot-at by delinquents than paying double for a meal at Pizza Express, whilst rubbing shoulders with newly-weds and soppy couples called Jasper and Mimi.

Now don’t get me wrong, I’m no cupid-quasher and am an absolute sucker for huge, romantic gestures, but something I’d like to see happen is for real love to be expressed on the most doting of days rather than just accepting the crappy Hallmark definition.

Carrie Bradshaw once said that she was, “Looking for Love. Ridiculous, inconvenient,  all-consuming, can’t-live-without-each-other love”. And on first watching that final episode of undoubtedly one of the best television series of all time, I thought that this was romance at its finest. But as time goes by, I’ve started to wonder whether or not this is in fact something that lots of us crave, all the while totally taking for granted real love.

For love to be ‘all consuming’, it verges on an addiction. And an unhealthy one at that. For it to be “inconvenient”, it normally involves sacrifice of sorts. So one of you might already be attached or you could be living far away from each other. These components make everything far more intense and cause you to label your feelings as a matter of urgency, perhaps thrusting us into the label of love when in reality it’s something very different?

As I’ve mentioned before (on roughly 4576 occasions), I have been in love once in my life. And although it has recently come to pass, it did teach me what real love is. It’s not that bizarre teenage love that consumes you for the duration of sixth form. Instead it’s quite literally offering someone your last Rolo. Or leaving a great party early when they’ve had too much to drink or buying a train ticket to see them even when you’ve almost maxed out your overdraft.

I’ve come to realise that real romantic love should be as infinite and comparable to that which you have for your best friend (minus the canoodling of course). For instance, I would never in a million years contemplate swapping any of my best girl friends for any other women. And real romantic love should feel the same. If you look back at every Valentine’s Day since you were aware of its arguably pathetic existence, I can assure you that there will have been one new love interest per year. But I bet your bestie has remained well after you’ve closed the door behind all of them. That’s real love. You know that feeling you get when you’re with someone and nobody else in the room exists? When there are ten people better looking than Gerard Butler or Megan Fox put together but there’s only one person you wish to take home? That’s also love.

Basically, when you experience real love, the grass is always greener on your side of the fence.

I’m lucky because my parents have lived through a long and happy marriage and when challenged about how she has remained faithful during those twenty-five years married to my father, mum proudly replies, “Because he’s enough”. And as unromantic as that ‘enough’ might sound to you, it’s probably the most romantic thing I’ve ever heard. It’s the contentment and utter acceptance of who each other are that I find so inspired. And that’s why I think they’ve lasted a whole quarter of a century.

Life is only full of ups and downs if you let yourself get taken along for the ride, and with the right person, even the most challenging of circumstances can be plain sailing.

So if you’re looking for someone to spend your life with, then you won’t want what Carrie calls ‘real love’. Instead, you’ll want friendship, with that certain je ne sais quoi thrown in.

Not just a shit card on Valentine’s Day.

Happy 14th February everyone.

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The Friendship.

Is it possible that mixed- sex- friendships are restricted to being made during our school or university days? Post-education, it seems to me that it has become increasingly hard to meet someone with a view to pursue a friendship, rather than a love affair. And I’ve learnt recently (the hard way) that male/female friendships made in your twenties are actually rather few and far between-something I’ve grown to resent.

I understand that when socialising, most are on the hunt for a sexual partner. I get it, balls and boobs are heading south and you’re panicking. But shouldn’t we just slow down when we meet someone and get to know whether they prefer jam or marmalade on their toast first? After all, some of the best sexual relationships are based upon friendship. And some of the best relationships are simply just friendship. I’m always up for meeting new people but I’m also very aware that when my company for the night is a member of the male variety, sex is always on someone’s mind.

Maybe I’m too presumptuous and assume that guys are always after one thing? But as of late, it has been proved that, in fact, the majority of the time, they are: and my assumptions have been confirmed. When asking my guy mates about this issue, I’ve been labelled “naive” to think that an invitation to have coffee could be strictly platonic. They themselves also suggested that men don’t tend to read signals; instead they read your chest. So when it comes to finding friends of the opposite sex, I must hold my hands up and admit that I’m hopeless at it. Maybe I’ll just leave it and stick to the guy mates I already have who pick their noses and tell me I look like shit, when I really do, look like shit. But even with my male mates from way-back-when, there’s normally a point in our friendship where we’ve asked ourselves whether we fancy one another, or whether something could potentially happen… and have even enjoyed the odd vodka-induced-snog. It seems as though it’s quite difficult to remain platonic rather than playmates.

Personally I’m not shy and don’t mind letting someone know that the most they’re getting is a pint bought for them but why is it that “I only like you as a friend” is such an insult? It seems as though spitting in one’s face is likely to be far more pleasant-being fancied is apparently more important than being funny, charismatic or interesting these days. People search for ‘the one’ for years, by-passing potential friendships and pushing them to one side because they don’t pass the marriage test. Think about how many people you’ve got along with and disposed of because you didn’t fancy them-you’ve missed out on having both a wingman, another insight into the male/female mind and someone new to quite simply have a laugh with.

I’m starting to think that maybe it’s impossible to be friends with the opposite sex. Take the world’s favourite TV show. It might be entitled ‘Friends’, but how many of them actually are just friends? It might be fiction but take a look at your own “friendship group” and count how many people around you have dated, fumbled or dabbled.

I rest my case.

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The Break Up.

So I watched ‘The Break Up’ last night and felt totally cheated. I cannot believe they don’t get back together at the end! That’s not a Rom Com, that’s a Rom Con! I didn’t sit and watch an hour and a half of actually quite an engaging film to see a mutual agreement at the end not to be together. I wanted rain, maybe even a bit of snow. I wanted an exhausting sex scene or a fireworks display where they declare their love for one another. But, no. I got ‘see you around’. Very, very disappointing. For once, real life is more exciting than the movies. However, in an attempt to prevent this turning into a film review,  I must turn to the real reason I’m writing this; because of the way the film made me think about my own break up history.

Having been through only two major break ups in my life, I feel a little inadequate on the discussion of relationships falling apart but I personally think that the first is always the worst. Not because you love them more than any later lovers, just because it’s so new. At the age of around sixteen, you find yourself completely falling for someone with the entirety of your heart, body, mind and soul. (I don’t think one ever falls harder or faster than when falling for a first love.) So when the inevitable happens and the relationship crumbles due to conflicting university choices, travelling, or worst of all, cheating, your whole world seems to fall apart. Once you’ve been through The First Love Break Up, whether you are sixteen or forty-five, a lot of things are put into perspective. I think it makes you a little colder, a little more closed and a lot more cynical about the future…

But once the first is somewhat behind you, you follow it up with the next break up which is usually The University Break Up, or as I like to call it, ‘the early twenties freak out’. You get to twenty-one, final year of university and think ‘Oh Holy Fuck, I have a year left to go wild. What am I doing?’ You call it off, there are tears, a lot more break up sex than you could ever possibly imagine and then that period where you decide that it would be a good idea to see who can hurt each other more to make yourself feel better. This is the worst phase of all. It is the numbness of this break up which is the scariest because it is nothing in comparison to the childish hurt you felt from the first. You think you don’t really care as much as the first time. But you really do. You just have to hope that when you realise you made a mistake, it’s not too late.

The Long Distance Break Up isn’t much better I’m afraid. This one appears to be all about how much effort you put in, how much you love each other or the amount of distance between you. In reality, it isn’t any of the above. Instead, it is simply just really really hard to be away from the one you love. The whole reason you are with someone is because you enjoy their company, you find them physically attractive and because your life is much better when you’re around them. You can’t experience any of these things to their maximum potential over Skype or through text messaging which is why these relationships generally fail. Think about it. How many long distance relationships that you’ve experienced, personally or not, have actually worked out? I don’t know any that have. If there’s an end in sight then it might be worth the struggle, but if not it might be time to think about the cut and run?

The thing you need to remember is that until you find ‘The One’ or at least ‘One of the Ones’,

“Love always begins with a smile, grows with a kiss, and ends with a teardrop.” Anonymous

As long as you know this, you can limit the pain and live for the moment. But is it all worth it? I think I’ll leave that one up to you…

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