Sometimes, when I recall my past relationships, not least when I listen to the confidences of the people close to me, I realize that relationships look like more and more a cream puff - the “choux pastry” represents friendship, whereas the filling cream is the fatty and sweet compound of sex and love; or maybe you noticed that relationships look like even the Italian “Calzone” which we’re used to eat on Saturday night at pizzerias, in which case the friendship is represented by the outer swollen and burnt shell-like pizza dough, thin or not it is; indeed, sex and love are represented by the melten mozzarella and soft artichoke’s hearts.
I was convinced that friendship was the actual soul of the love stories, and not vice versa. Still, today all is "Com’on, gimme your number, let’s be friend!", instead of "I wanna fuck you" or "I wanna be your lover"; also, there is such manner to speak like "I'm so sorry, but I wish we can be good friends. Com’on, let’s be friends...?" instead of "You’re dismissed; I don't love you anymore, this makes me feel guilty, but I’m not so brave to tell you the truth."
It’s like friendship had become not only the access to the love, but also the door to run away through.
When last week a guy dear to me told me that he’d put "The End" wordings to his last love story, because the counterpart would rather be something else to him (something like a friend), then he added “How can I be his friend?"
"You should not be his friend at all" was my answer, stating that, for example, when Tiger-Fish decided to break up with me, well, these were his words: "Over time we’ll understand if we did the right thing", whilst I personally flipped out and boiled with anger, dreaming to get up and kick and punch him. But today, after 5 years of separation and a very slow rapprochement we’re friends, eventually.
It does not happen often, but when the friendship after love does happen, it’s not because it’s been programmed, ie studied, manipulated.
Much more often, the friendship could be defined as the result of a silent hoeing of the parched earth of the heart, a product of a growing fortitude. Just because the heart has got the productivity of the well watered undergrowth, it does not mean that it’s correct to burn it in order to destroy the field of love in order to speed up the transition to the next (not granted at all) friendship’s stage. In fact, it just works like in agriculture – you burn the lands and what remains is only the carbon, so that you get a rich harvest the first year, but you're going to lose the fertility for the following ones.
Perhaps all this is not new to all of you, and that is why if we want to play down the insinuation of those sticking a love story at us, our first reply is: "Me..? Not on my life! We're JUST friends."