I used to have a roommate when I lived in a shoebox of a room. Our two lofted twin beds were crammed to one side of a 16-by-18-meter apartment. The physical closeness prompted our emotional closeness, and we would spend countless nights staying up talking by the golden haze of our night lights.
We talked about family, love, what we wanted out of life and things we had not gotten out of it. Since we spent most of the day going about our separate schedules, we cherished the nights where it was just the two of us. One night while we were waiting for the train, one of our friends remarked that we were like a married couple.
It was ironic, because neither of us wanted to get married in the future. Both of us were big advocates for freedom, mostly to travel. I thought that if this is what a relationship was like, then sign me up. But I knew that fate didn’t often just hand you someone like this as your roommate for 12 months. And if it did, then the chemistry usually just wasn’t there. All I knew was that I didn’t want to muck up any of my relationships where I truly connected with people, with romance.
Romance in our world today feels so transactional. Intimacy and human connection are relegated to only serious-ish, committed relationships. In casual relationships, you can get intimacy but not the human connection, while in friendship, human connection but not the intimacy. Then if you do find someone who can give you both intimacy and human connection, you’re supposed to get it solely from them and stop getting it from your friends, lest it be viewed as cheating.
Now I’m going to be saying intimacy and human connection a lot throughout this column so let’s just refer to them as ‘the magic’ from now on.
Platonic relationships allow room for the magic that society tells us we have to keep reserved. It’s humanizing to link arms with your friends as you walk, or even hold hands or cuddle. There’s nothing inherently romantic or sexual about these things, and yet we place a label on them and are told to tuck them away like fine china and to only use them for special guests.
Over time as our society evolved into one where young people are dating less and becoming busier than before, we’ve forgotten that the fancy plate and tea set we’ve stored away are still just a plate and a tea set. Good enough to use whenever we like.
Romantic relationships, especially burgeoning romantic relationships, are some of the most stressful things I have ever experienced. They’re so laden with expectation that they can actually become unbearably awkward and uptight. Society has romanticized romance so much that it has become the centerpiece of our culture.
In films, television shows, art, video games and books, we barely see long term platonic relationships. If we do, it’s used as a set-up for the best friends to fall in love with each other, or for the main character to have the strength to keep chasing the “perfect man.” I’m looking at you, Carrie Bradshaw.
Friendships, in comparison, don’t put pressure on us to be the perfect friend, because they aren’t based on the concept that you must only have one friend and that friend must be more important than all the rest. There is so much pressure in romantic relationships to be the perfect partner and if the magic falls apart and you only get one thing without the other, there must be something wrong.
Then, if something is wrong, you’ve got to get out of there and throw that person away, or try and work at it and risk your happiness if the person doesn’t change. Friendship celebrates the magic, as well as the imperfections.
If we give up the notion that the magic is a gift reserved for only those that relegate themselves to a confined, heteronormative relationship with the underlying promise of marriage, then society might fall apart. But then again, maybe it won’t.
So, if you find some people who you’ve got the magic with, don’t marry them — just let them be your friend.
