Last Thursday, girls' night, our weekly meeting was in mid-flow and we were in deep discussion about serious current affairs -- who's dating who -- when the bombshell came.
"I'm seeing Joe," blurted one of my chums. Joe. Her platonic mate. For 10 years. Noooooo. Big mistake.
The danger of messing with platonic relationships is one of the things that make it into the "love and relationships" category under the sub-title "with age comes wisdom." It's in there next to the sad resignation that Richard Gere isn't going to swoopin, give us a stonking big ruby necklace and whisk us away in a private jet to a life of unbridled romance. Sigh.
And we reluctantly accept that a muscle-bound dancer called Johnny isn't going to rescue us from the corner at the PTA dance where we're hiding so that no one will make us sell raffle tickets -- and yes, that's a dig to my PTA pal Jan who seems to think it's hilarious to make me dress up in a costume and huckle people for 50p to win a signed football and a fruit basket.
Sadly, experience has shown us that most platonic relationships with the opposite sex should stay just that -- platonic.
Sure there are exceptions. We've all heard stories about the occasional couple who knew each other since they were four and then were hit by a thunderbolt of devotion 20 years later and lived happily ever after.
But in the main the equation is straight forward: platonic friends plus experimental episode of naked hokey cokey equals one less name on the Christmas card list. Apparently, our chum didn't get the memo that confusing friendship with lust rarely ends well. There was only one thing for it -- the top 10 test as featured in an article I wrote for Cosmo earlier this year. I spent the week that it came out tottering about in high heels talking about orgasms until I realized it took too much energy to be windswept and interesting and reverted to my trusty Ugg boots and talking about what's on special at Asda. So ... Top 10 signs that you should never be more than platonic friends: You've absolutely no desire to see him naked. None.You get excited for him when he meets a new woman.You don't get upset when he cancels pre-planned events because of aforementioned new romance.You don't care how he dresses. Ditto the Michael Bolton hair.You'd rather cuddle up on the couch to watch CSI Miami than have the sack, back and crack chat.You view his mom as a casual acquaintance and not a source of information, intimidation or fear.You think it's cute when he remembers your birthday three days after the event.He's the first person you call when your heart gets broken and you don't think twice about letting him see you in the inevitable "face like a pumpkin/expelling snot" situation.You don't take your pants off the radiator before he comes in.And finally, you view his quirks and idiosyncrasies as adorable flaws and not hackle-raising, genetic time bombs that will be passed on to your offspring. Perhaps our anonymous chum would score low and prove they were meant to be? Sadly not -- a toe-curling nine out of 10. Apparently pants on the radiator is a step too far. Definite friendship/lust/confusion. She refused to be swayed. "It sometimes works out though, doesn't it?" As supportive pals, we all nodded and headed for planet clich. Every rule has an exception. Sometimes fact is stranger than fiction and dreams do come true. And just in case that's true... Richard, if you're free, next Thursday night, my house, half a dozen women with a penchant for stonking big rubies. Richard Gere isn't going to whisk us away in a private jet to a live of unbridled romance. Sigh!
