CAN EX-LOVERS BECOME BEST FRIENDS?
Reassuring words for those who ask if they can remain Best Friends with their ex-Lovers.
There is one. and only one, reason... as if one needed any more than one... for it not being possible to be the best friend, or even casual friend of one whom one has loved.
The function of a friend…(and for the rest of this preachy little document, read “friend” for “friend” and “best friend”) or should I say, one of the functions of a friend is to be there (How I loathe that turn of phrase) for his/her friend
A friend is there to listen when one is pissed off with life and nothing seems to matter anymore. For example:
when the kids have not only smoked marijuana, but have set up a business dealing in it that is so successful that it would make Richard Branson jealous;
when his/her wife/husband is shagging the Swedish au pair and even the Vicar can’t be persuaded to help;
when his/her wife/husband is shagging the Vicar and even the Swedish au pair can’t be persuaded to help;
when his/her lover has developed a really nasty social disease and he/she has noticed a very unpleasant sore on her/his (fill in the location as you see fit);
when her once Rugby (or Gridiron) playing lover has started wearing her best frocks and hanging around in gay bars;
when his usually domesticated and sweet girlfriend has joined the Isleworth Chapter of Hell’s Angels and is having a very intimate relationship with Sharon from the cake shop….
and so on. All the permutations of modern living.
So what are friends for? That's easy.
That’s what friends are for… to turn to and ask for advice. How could you go to an ex lover and tell them all the above; or at least some of it, and hope to gain his/her whole and undivided (if non judgemental) attention?
One can step in and offer a bit of friendly advice; pat one’s friend on the back or knee (whichever seems more appropriate) and then having done the friendship bit, wander off into the sunset; to do more selfish, if hedonistic things, such as mowing the lawn or worming the cat.
But not if one has been a lover. If Lover Mk I hears that Lover Mk II is soiling the marital couch with infidelities or whatever, Lover Mk I wouldn’t be too severely criticised if he/she were to gloat. Well, it’s natural, isn’t it? Or to use a colloquialism; “Innit?”
I mean. If my Ex were to come to me and say that the latest piece of filth he/she had picked up had been shagging half Norbury-sur-Mer till their ears squeaked, I know I am the person most noted for my compassion and understanding, but I would most probably say something along the lines of, “You chose him/her, Sweetheart; you get on with it!” and most probably finish off my little bit of friendly counselling with a “Now, under the circumstances, I suppose a shag’s out of the question?”
Sorry mate. Rule one applies. You can’t be best friends with someone you’ve played horizontal tennis with. Our prisons are bulging with people who think you can. Stalkers are stalkers, and all these things are just as unsavoury. Look at Clytemnestra and Agamemnon; look at Lucrezia Borgia and the Sforza and D’Este blokes; look at Mrs Philips down your road at number 14. They’re all the same. When the old man has fulfilled his usefulness and ceased to be Numero Uno...
Does he take up living in the spare room?
Does he become a figure of importance and/or respect in the once happy home?
No, he is more likely to end up under the patio in the back garden; or (more or less unwillingly) or perhaps end up donating most, or all, of his body parts to the pig slop in the local pig farm.
Just a warning. Ex lovers can’t be friends.
Think of the female spider. Post coitus… Wham! Dinner.
Not friends. One eater… one pudding.
More by this Author
Language and its importance in the modern world. And example or two of useful, empathetic and compassionate uses of the English language. Also, the disturbing anecdote of a caring person's mistake.
There are people, and surely you know some, Who have told you already, this year, That they won’t be sending out C cards The ones full of Greetings and Cheer They say that their reasons...
A somewhat less than learned attempt to explain Restless Legs Syndrome and possible ways of diminishing its effects. The writer is a sufferer, yet can describe the condition with some little humour.