This is one of several articles/mini-essays I wrote when I was in my very early 20s. I recently found them, filed away in a folder of keepsakes. I was just out of university at the time and beginning to experience and process the complexities of being a grown-up. I was also dreaming of becoming a writer of some sort – maybe a food or travel writer. Anyway, these are like letters from my 20-year-old self and give some insight into one person’s thoughts in the year 2000. Instead of keeping them on file I thought it was time they finally saw the light of day – so here they are.

Friendship is a difficult thing, especially between a boy and girl. The eternal question is; can two people of opposite sexes be friends without love (or sex) interfering? Wasn’t that the whole premise of ‘When Harry met Sally’? I do have some friendships that are totally platonic but these aren’t the friendships that mean the most to me. I can take them or leave them. I don’t miss the other person when I haven’t seen them for ages; it’s nice to hear from them after a while but these are not the friendships that I pursue. There’s somehow not enough passion to fuel my pursuit at any cost of that individual. Even if it’s quite clear that nothing will ever happen between us, either by mutual admission, mutual knowledge or painful experience. Perhaps it’s up to me to work out why I have such a passion about someone, is there still the faint hope that one day this all might lead somewhere? If I demonstrate my stoic friendship now, proving to my friend what a steadfast and consistent individual I am then maybe, somewhere down the line (sooner rather than later would be preferable) he will realise how much he values me, and loves me and we’ll fall desperately in love and live happily ever after. And the girlfriend will disappear into the distance never to be seen or heard from again. And all our friends will agree that he chose the right girl in the end and be overwhelmingly happy for us.

But sadly this romantic notion of love-finally-requited is just that, a romantic notion. And romance whilst representing some high ideal is not the stuff of life. I can vainly hold onto the hope that my friend will one day come to love me but it doesn’t enable me to face reality. The fact is that I am not the girl for him, nor is he the boy for me. But I will not accept that. I won’t let him go. I’ve cried enough over him, talked enough about him, thought enough about him and convinced myself on an intellectual level that it would never work. But for reasons that are inexplicable, I love him. I can acknowledge that his girlfriend is much better for him than I ever would be. I concede that, grudgingly. I know that there is none of the spark necessary for a relationship to develop; I can’t laugh with him, our chats always take on a very serious tone, there doesn’t seem to be an easiness and calm between us. It’s all a bit of an effort really. But still in the pit of my heart there is the hope that all this could change and we could suddenly fall for each other. However, if we did, I would have to become a totally different person and probably so would he and that’s not going to happen. And I certainly haven’t come this far in becoming more myself to throw it all away and become someone else.

But this brings up the question of how much do I really value my friendships? Why do I place such a high value on a relationship with that person, believing that I’ve only got second best as a friend? Platonic love is love nonetheless and only one person will ultimately fulfil the role of girlfriend, wife, lover. So why do I think that I’ve lost out? I still crave that special place and even as a friend I want to be the best-loved friend. But if I was that I’d soon become the girlfriend and that’s not going to happen. So friends it must be, in whatever shape or form it comes. Not craving more, being satisfied with what I’ve got and realising that that is the best.

© Alexandra Noel – All rights reserved. The Year 2000. (15th July 2021)