…knows exactly who he is. So, we don’t have to talk in riddles for this one. But let’s just be clear on a couple of things. Firstly, the label of ‘the one that got away’ was self-proclaimed by him. And secondly, I think it was me that got away.
Dating a friend is something I think about probably more than the average person. I mean, on the one hand, I’ve probably done it more than the average person. But on the other, I’m yet to really reach a conclusion as to whether it’s worth it.
Speaking obviously, if I was actually writing this in a relationship with a guy that started off as a friend and was now something more, then I’m sure this’d take a slightly different route. But I’m not – I’m editing this as single as I’ve ever been from the comfort of a hot bath. Suppose you can only work with what you’ve got.
And in addition to the bubbles, that’s a host of c o m p l e x feelings.
Because I know lots of people whose relationships started as friendships. And I think we’d all by lying if we hadn’t ever craved the comfort of someone who’s been by your side as you’ve navigated the rollercoaster of teenage hormones, the highs and lows of University (or multiple ski seasons), and the arguably more tumultuous ride of your mid-late twenties.
***
I’m surrounded by more pals than not whose relationships started off in the friendzone. Take Emily, my childhood best friend who’s marrying her friend-turned-fiancée later this year.
Family friends, who got together when they were in their teens and have been together ever since. (And only ever been together, if you know what I mean.)
My sister, whose relationship to a college friend changed very literally with a single snog after years of friendship – they’re now married, with two gorgeous girls.
Because friendship is one of the most solid bases for a romantic relationship, right? And why wouldn’t it be – friends are fucking fantastic.
Doesn’t matter if it’s a 5 minute catch-up on your walk home from work, hours-long talks until the early hours, or ending a 30th birthday filling your faces with suspicious kebabs in some (non-suspicious) stranger’s apartment in Brixton. Time spent with your mates – your true mates, those who make the sun shine a little brighter and the music feel a little louder – is something else. Something I’ve always felt damn grateful to really experience deep down. But a level of which I’ve not necessarily got from a romantic relationship before.
Maybe that says something about who I’ve dated. How comfortable I’ve felt. How comfortable I’ve let myself feel. But we’ll save that thought for another day. Back to this one…
With your friends, you’re unconditionally and unapologetically yourself. Which really, is where I reckon all of us really want to be with someone else. And where I thought I was with this person.
Still do.
To an extent.
***
So, this friend. This was the first boy-friend I dated before going onto date another friend, and then another… I was a lot younger, and thinking about it, I think it’s a testament to a love that runs deep that we’re still friends out the other side. At least I think we are. One of the last things he text me was ‘think we might as well get together just for the pics’. I’d say that’s somewhere on the friendship spectrum, right?
It’s 99% because he’s used the same photo of us from years ago on his Hinge profile. I’m told it does rather well – probably because we’re both laughing so hard in it that girls think ‘damn, this chick must be h i l a r i o u s’. Because we all know it’s a green flag for a decent guy if he’s making his girl-friends laugh. (And if his recent IG story was to go by, it might’ve secured him a winner.)
This piece will have already gone to his head so I won’t blow his trumpet too much. (Reader, it’s important to state that you should read that from a non-big-headed point of view. I just know him quite well, and I reckon he’ll be smiling.) But I think all I really need to say is this: he feels like home. If I walk into a room and he’s there, I want to be near him. Because we get on.
Really well.
Or at least, we did. Now I think we’re a bit more wary, especially because laughing one minute and arguing the next feels like something that should be left at the younger side of 25. Which is the other thing – there’s usually tears. Usually mine. And usually fuelled by an unruly amount of alcohol. And, aaaand, it’s usually the same circle of conversation:
“I’ll always love you”
“You don’t like me”
“I like you”
“Why are you such a dick?”
“Don’t be like that”
“Why do you never say what you mean?”
“Come here and give me a hug”
“You know how I feel”
“It’s all words”
“Wanna go skiing?”
Not in that particular order. Round and round we’d go, seemingly never on the same page. But both characters in the same book. I think we’re at the point where it’s all been said, but there’s so much unsaid. And it feels like it’s settling naturally.
(I think?)
***
We’ve made each other laugh. So much. Like, the laughs when there’s no sound because you’re so entirely consumed by the laugh that you can’t make a noise, you can only rock back and forth with your hands clenched in a claw-like manner, tears of hilarity streaming from your eyes, and a bit of snot thrown into the mix for good measure.
We’ve spent hours on the phone talking about everything and nothing – daft dating stories, family feuds, work achievements, what we’re having for dinner.
We’ve shared hugs. The really tight kind.
Seats. When there’s not enough room for one more but you make enough room anyway.
Dancefloors. For nothing compares to the magic of being spun around by someone with a bit of magic in their eye for you.
But we’ve also differed. And I think that’s because our friendship has been overridden by this tug of feelings war.
***
Like, we’ve both liked each other, and I think to similar degrees. But always at different times. And there’s always an excuse, some sort of barrier. A throw-away comment that means we don’t speak for months. The old ‘I didn’t really mean it’. The disappointment that follows when you realise they actually didn’t mean it.
Yet maybe it’s all just a game neither of us want to end. A constant. Because then there’s the messages to check in, prompting us to talk for days.
Yet as much as I’ve thought about ‘what if’, I don’t think it will be. Which feels weighty to write down.
But right to write.
Right now.
(I think.)
I’ll always be fond of him. I can’t imagine a day where I’m not. Even if he’s being blasé about the particulars of the next ski holiday.
And I’m desperate for him to always be fond of me, too. When he’s made a flippant joke about his feelings towards me – i.e. that there aren’t any – it’s hurt. But I know that when I’ve made certain comments and not followed through, I’ve also hurt him.
Yet, as we get older, wrinklier, not necessarily wiser, I just want one thing: to be in each other’s lives. Because though it feels like we’re sometimes always on some sort of ride (that’s not actually a euphemism), he’s bloody fantastic. A little grumpy with me at times, but it’s forgivable. Because he’s still great.
Charming.
Caring.
Hilarious.
Poetic*.
Witty.
Sassy.
Steezy(ish).
Charismatic.
And above all, loved.
The type of person that lights up a room and makes it howl with laughter.
Who’s got a face that lights up when they smile.
Who I hope realises how much they’ve meant – they mean.
And who is also in this for the long haul.
***
*I started this by saying he knows I’ve written this. And it’s fair to say that out of the guys I’ve written about, this is the only one that’s returned the favour (that I know of, eh!).
Mainly in poem form, usually for birthdays.
This is a little bit of something he sent on a random evening in January.
***
We grew closer together
And for a time I thought it might be forever
To this day I’m not sure why
But at the time it made me cry
I lost my best friend
And being fine I did pretend
But still we’ve had some great memories
Even if sometimes we are enemies
Though we don’t see each other for a while
You never fail to make me smile
There’s quite a lot to go through
And most of it is between me and you
As for ‘will they won’t they’
I’m happy to just be known as ‘the one that got away’
***
Keep your friends close.
And your best ones closer.
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