Men and women can never be ‘just friends’. I know, I know, you’ve heard this line so many times... Hands up all those who don’t agree? Thought so. Apart from the one guy right at the back in the purple skinny jeans, waving his hands like he’s at a Sauti Sol
Slight detour, I went for a show last week, Aaron Rimbui featuring amongst others the boys of Sauti Sol,
- Those young girls masquerading as groupies best stay well away from me because the next time I will slap all their sandak-wearing asses. Miss
T , next time show up early enough to get yourself a seat near the fucking exit so you don’t have to keep bothering me during the climax of a bloody song because your adolescent bladders are malfunctioning.hangs - Those boys can actually sing! The last time I heard/watched them the sound was crap so I wrote them off. I now eat my words and bow down. Lakini, that small one in the very tight clothes, boss you might want to reconsider your wardrobe choices. Then again I’m not the target audience am I?
Mr Rimbui Eric ‘he that has owned my heart since Beats of the Season 95’ Wainana, those men know how to put on a show. They took those younglings to school…- (Bonus no?) If you’re a fan of jazz and love a good band, but cant stand the B&W yuppies with dogs nonsense, make a point of going for ‘All That Jazz’ at the Museum next time it rolls around, but be sure to get there early because the hall is not that big and the parking can only hold 5 cars, plus a tuk tuk. That’s the public service announcement for today.
Where was I? Ah yes, the women (and the skinny jeans guy) were insisting that men and women can be ‘just friends’. Folks, I hate to break it to you, but we cant, not really. Yes, you’ll be close, and you’ll even be friends, real friends, but never for one minute assume that you’re completely platonic. You’re just not shagging. Yet.
Let me make my case then I’ll leave you to decide.
When you first meet someone the attraction is physical no? That’s okay, it’s how we’re built, there’s no shame in it. Drawn together by that initial frission, you tentatively start to get to know each other and that’s when one of two things will happen, either the person turns out to be a bit of a twit and the spark is hastily extinguished, or they turn out to be really funny, smart, even sexier than imagined (…………insert individual fixation here) and the spark starts a little fire. Now at this point you’re not friends, you’re nothing but raging hormones eager to touch each other, that is until you find out she’s your brother’s new chick, or you BFF’s hot new catch. That most tempting prospect has turned out to be completely unavailable, cue hasty stamping out of fire… Spark now dead, you shrug it off and proceed to become friends. End of story yes?
Fast forward to 2 years down the line, your friend has just broken up with the source of said unavailability. He comes to your house in search of a hot meal, a cold beer and possibly a warm body. (The men are laughing as they read this, I’m right aren’t I?) And you, being the supportive good friend you are, feed him and water him, hug him tight to your bosom, same bosom conveniently swathed in that red lace bra you save for special nights (complete with matching thong) that you just happened to slip on when he called to say he’s coming over. (Now the women are laughing too.) As he pours out his sorrows you gently rub his back, then his neck, then his face, and then before you know it he’s rubbing you. The following morning you wake up and gasp ‘what have we done?’, and the next thing you know you’ve been shagging like rabbits for 2 weeks straight.
Still think the spark is dead?
Today’s musical number is the appropriately titled ‘Friends Don’t Let Friends’, and no, it is not an ode to designated drivers, far from it. I am yet to meet a person who’s listened to this song and did not have a wistful look in their eye and a knowing smile on their face. I will pay good(ish) money to anyone who can prove otherwise… This is the dirty little secret of friendships between men and women. Lust. He wants to shag you, and you want to shag him. Admit it. The only thing that’s stopping you is circumstances, call it conscience or morality or simply the cost of the bloody repercussions. The minute that loophole is found, shagville here we come…
Now I’m not saying all friendships will end up in the sack if given the chance, there’s usually more to it isn’t there? Some people will worry about the relationship saying, ‘I don’t want to ruin a great friendship’, although I have a sneaky suspicion what they really mean is ‘I’m not sure the sex will be that good, I don’t think it’s worth the hassle’, or ‘lakini you have some very creepy stalker tendencies, I don’t think I can handle’, and such like. If we’ve been friends for a while, I know the good and the bad, odds are I’m bound to be cautious before getting into anything no? Some of us worry we wont match up to the legendary tales of lovers past. From what my fellas tell me, this is of particular concern to them. Ladies, while you were sitting there telling him about your ex who was skilled in the ways of pleasuring a woman, he was sitting there wondering ‘That little shit? Shit!’ That’s what’s going through his mind when you’re busy snuggling on the sofa that fateful evening. Women on the other hand are such delusional creatures that we not only believe we’ll be better than all your exes, we’ll show you why. What you men forget, of course, is that you told us everything we need to know and us females, we take notes. That story about the girl who rode you like so and blew your mind, burned in my memory my friend...
Now I’m not saying all friendships will end up in the sack if given the chance, there’s usually more to it isn’t there? Some people will worry about the relationship saying, ‘I don’t want to ruin a great friendship’, although I have a sneaky suspicion what they really mean is ‘I’m not sure the sex will be that good, I don’t think it’s worth the hassle’, or ‘lakini you have some very creepy stalker tendencies, I don’t think I can handle’, and such like. If we’ve been friends for a while, I know the good and the bad, odds are I’m bound to be cautious before getting into anything no? Some of us worry we wont match up to the legendary tales of lovers past. From what my fellas tell me, this is of particular concern to them. Ladies, while you were sitting there telling him about your ex who was skilled in the ways of pleasuring a woman, he was sitting there wondering ‘That little shit? Shit!’ That’s what’s going through his mind when you’re busy snuggling on the sofa that fateful evening. Women on the other hand are such delusional creatures that we not only believe we’ll be better than all your exes, we’ll show you why. What you men forget, of course, is that you told us everything we need to know and us females, we take notes. That story about the girl who rode you like so and blew your mind, burned in my memory my friend...
Still not convinced are you? Then listen to my tale...
Many years ago, I was convinced that I was living proof that it was possible to have platonic friendships with men, my closest friends were all men, and none of them were ever my lovers. ‘See,’ I’d scoff, ‘you don’t know what you’re talking about, you pathetic pseudo experts in the Saturday magazine. Ha ha!’ So what happened? I found myself single after many years with one dude, and suddenly my fellas were transformed into a veritable buffet of easy pickings, I was spoilt for choice. Who better to dettol my knees than my hot friend from college, or my hotter friend from the bar, no? No. They all knocked me back, one by one, until finally I stopped asking (begging actually, but let’s not split hairs...), convinced that none of these men had even the vaguest lustful urges towards me. Suffice to say there was great shame (on my part, obviously) for a while, but because they’re foolish men there was no awkwardness, it was swept quietly under the rug. When I eventually got better, having stopped propositioning the poor bastards, I knew that these men were ‘real friends’, true gentlemen!
Then I started dating again (sort of…) and it was like a ‘TO LET’ sign was hanging outside my door, the same men who turned me down before were filing applications for my spare room. ‘But you killed my vibe you punk, si you said we’re pals?’ I’d ask, to which said punk would respond ‘Babes, you know I’ve always wanted your ass? Come on, si we’re pals…’ Confused? I was. According to these geniuses, taking advantage of me when I was down and pathetic would have been wrong, and slightly disgusting, but once I was back on my feet then I was fair game, and low hanging fruit. Eh? There I was convinced these men wouldnt shag me if I was the last woman on earth and in reality they were simply fattening the calf in anticipation of ’good times’. Men! Don’t worry, I knocked them back too, then the following day we’d have a good laugh about it and move on, luckily we’ve known each other too long to be sidetracked by such like foolishness. It also helps that we all know where each other’s skeletons are buried no? Blackmail my friends, second only to research...
Many years ago, I was convinced that I was living proof that it was possible to have platonic friendships with men, my closest friends were all men, and none of them were ever my lovers. ‘See,’ I’d scoff, ‘you don’t know what you’re talking about, you pathetic pseudo experts in the Saturday magazine. Ha ha!’ So what happened? I found myself single after many years with one dude, and suddenly my fellas were transformed into a veritable buffet of easy pickings, I was spoilt for choice. Who better to dettol my knees than my hot friend from college, or my hotter friend from the bar, no? No. They all knocked me back, one by one, until finally I stopped asking (begging actually, but let’s not split hairs...), convinced that none of these men had even the vaguest lustful urges towards me. Suffice to say there was great shame (on my part, obviously) for a while, but because they’re foolish men there was no awkwardness, it was swept quietly under the rug. When I eventually got better, having stopped propositioning the poor bastards, I knew that these men were ‘real friends’, true gentlemen!
Then I started dating again (sort of…) and it was like a ‘TO LET’ sign was hanging outside my door, the same men who turned me down before were filing applications for my spare room. ‘But you killed my vibe you punk, si you said we’re pals?’ I’d ask, to which said punk would respond ‘Babes, you know I’ve always wanted your ass? Come on, si we’re pals…’ Confused? I was. According to these geniuses, taking advantage of me when I was down and pathetic would have been wrong, and slightly disgusting, but once I was back on my feet then I was fair game, and low hanging fruit. Eh? There I was convinced these men wouldnt shag me if I was the last woman on earth and in reality they were simply fattening the calf in anticipation of ’good times’. Men! Don’t worry, I knocked them back too, then the following day we’d have a good laugh about it and move on, luckily we’ve known each other too long to be sidetracked by such like foolishness. It also helps that we all know where each other’s skeletons are buried no? Blackmail my friends, second only to research...
Now I’ve known some of these men my entire adult life, if this isn’t friendship then I clearly don’t know what is. That said, the speed with which I went from looking at them as ‘Good man!’ to ‘I want to lick whipped cream off your bare chest’ was scary, to say the least. I thought, having known them as long as I had, that I was long past the ‘hubba hubba’ drooling stage of when we first met. Clearly not. Clearly, all I did was file them under ‘Things to do…’, and apparently they did the same.
This new reality hasn’t made these friendships any less meaningful, but it means that when I’m looking for a shoulder to cry on these days, I pick the least sexy one, who fortunately for me is also the brightest, but only just (don’t tell him I said that…). And when they come to cry on mine (I’m conveniently assuming I’m not the least sexy one myself, of course), I take them up the road to the local. Better safe than sorry no?
This new reality hasn’t made these friendships any less meaningful, but it means that when I’m looking for a shoulder to cry on these days, I pick the least sexy one, who fortunately for me is also the brightest, but only just (don’t tell him I said that…). And when they come to cry on mine (I’m conveniently assuming I’m not the least sexy one myself, of course), I take them up the road to the local. Better safe than sorry no?
There’s no moral to this tale, not much point to it either I suspect. I started off expecting to give the many reasons why friends are the perfect rebound shag, only now I’ve managed to convince myself otherwise. Surely this must take great skill, I’ve talked myself out of shit instead of talking you into it. It’s a good thing I’m not a suicide counsellor no?
POSTSCRIPT
One woman's take on her male friends
A he says/she says take on platonic friendship between the sexes
POSTSCRIPT
One woman's take on her male friends
A he says/she says take on platonic friendship between the sexes
