We all want our BFFs to be happy in love, on one condition: that I’m happy, too. It’s an age-old dilemma, you don’t like your friend’s partner. So, what do you do?
You probably want to yell ‘you can do so much better!’, maybe even grab their arms and shake some sense into them. You think back to all the wine-induced hours spent mapping out their ideal partner, based on everything from personality to how they will look in the wedding photos. For fuck’s sake, there were probably even Pinterest boards made. Why didn’t they listen to the Pinterest boards?! You love your friend and vow to always be there for them — yet any time they mention their significant other, you cringe with every fibre of your being. But what are you going to do? Tell them that their partner is a jerk? Is it truly your place? Should you shut the fuck up, keep your head down and secretly loathe their spouse? None of these seem to be viable possibilities.
I spent a lot of my high school years feeling a little disconnected from the people I surrounded myself with. I had friends — people I adored and spent all my spare time with, but I often found myself questioning whether they were really ‘my people’.
I am lucky enough to be surrounded by so many incredible women. When I need to turn to someone in my life for much-needed advice, a warm embrace, a hearty giggle, a night of drinking and dancing, or an emotional cry, I turn to one of these confidants.
My first heartbreak was with a boy who felt he couldn’t be my friend anymore.
We’d been friends since middle school, often waiting together as we were usually the last ones to be picked up from school. We talked about everything, talked during everything and were childishly proud that our Snapchat streak was so long.
When Harry Met Sally, famously claims that “men and women can’t be friends because the sex part always gets in the way.” But what about when the sex is part of the friendship? Are friends with benefits a real and viable mode of relationship, or are they just a delayed heartbreak under the guise of our modern fear of commitment?
In my post high school naive mind, it was simple. We were young and jobless. We had the time and the freedom of going out instead of studying for exams. Our days were empty, waiting to be filled with adventure. But this new found freedom came at a cost. There was no more seeing the same faces every day. No more sitting on the oval laughing about stupid shit. No more cramming for a test together or late-night snapchatting mental breakdowns of how we were all doomed to fail.