The Way I Want To Be Friends

by Becky Birtha

Can we touch each other more, please?

can we have our fill of hugs everyday,

fill each other’s arms again and again

Can we let our bare arms brush against each other’s

and our knees bump, with no apologies

squeeze close together in small spaces

can we tickle and tumble and remember play

giggle and stop with a head plopped in an open lap

Can we braid each other’s hair

sprinkle each other’s feet

spread each other’s backs with pungent oils

slip the rings from finger to finger

fasten the clasp at the neck’s nape

wrap each others heads in wide, woven bands

Can we spend the day together

laugh and lean against one another

catch hands in the sunlight and leave them linked

and swinging in the rhythm of our matching stride

Can we spend the night together

and not end up ex-lovers

can we cuddle close on a blanket under the stars

and tell each other stories, sing each other songs

lie long in one another’s arms

holding, holding through the dark

Can we touch each other more please

can we fill each other’s lives

can we fill each other

again and again and again?

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This past summer, a friend shared this striking poem with me. I genuinely think about it at least 3 times a week. Few pieces of literature have resonated with me more (The Learn’d Astronomer by Walt Whitman being the only other one I’ve ever wanted to memorize), and the message is one often forgotten in this day and age. The generation of individuals born between the late 1980s and the early 2000s are often pegged with being the worst perpetrators of a “hookup culture” dedicated to low commitment and minimal emotional attachment. In other words, the world sees us as though all any of us want is sex. Well, isn’t that true for most humans anyways?

Excluding that last sentence of tongue in cheek sarcasm, my point is that most forms of physical interaction or affection these days, especially between people of different, standardly heteronormative genders, are viewed as “flirting”, or otherwise innately sexual. Intimacy is seen exclusively as an attempt to “get” with someone, and when it’s anything but this, can be deeply confusing for those on the giving or receiving end. So many of my closest friends are male or identify as men; the culture I currently live in however, makes it socially difficult for me to tangibly express my care for them the way that I would a close female or feminine-identifying friend. The way that I embrace or cuddle my best “girlfriend”, would be seen as inappropriate if done with my best “guy friend” (unless he be my significant other).

Despite this perceived dominant culture of relational detachment (or one that ascribes most physical affection to sexual endeavors), I grew up in a family that greeted all (or at least most) guests and friends with a hug and “smooch” on the cheek or lips. I often observed my mom and my best friend’s dad say hello or goodbye in this way (the kind of lip-kiss parents may give their child), and experienced it myself with my high school boyfriend’s family. For me, it was natural. It still is natural. After seeing a good friend for the first time in a while at a college house party, we enthusiastically called each other’s names and promptly smacked each other directly on the mouth. This was the first moment though, that I realized what was natural for me could be construed in a vastly different manner by my peers. This friend himself immediately turned bright red and apologized, noting that my boyfriend sat only a few feet away. My S.O. however, knowing me well, didn’t even flinch. His smile and shrug immediately helped me shed any momentary doubt about the circumstantial appropriateness of my actions.

These are the moments I’d like to have more of. The sloppy kisses between close friends, the extended hugs which, if held for 20 seconds or more, will bless your brain with an overload of oxytocin… these are the interactions that feed my soul. Just like a deep, philosophical conversation fuels my passions and intellect, physical affection (especially of the platonic persuasion), fuel my senses with butterflies and blurry eyes. They warm my body and reaffirm my friendships. If we could redefine how we view physical affections, then perhaps “sexual tension” wouldn’t be quite so palpable. Perhaps we wouldn’t worry about if our good friend is misinterpreting our actions. This “hookup culture” seems to have shrouded many of our instincts of love and human touch. Since so many of us therefore assume that those around us are living in this sense of detachment, jealousy appears subsequently more present in the monogamous relationships we do have. Sometimes I wonder if young adults’ tendency to get anxious in exclusive dating comes from a generalized stigma that clumps all of our minds into one big, constantly horny tangle.

If we could remove the threat of “implicit” or “subtle” flirting, and used our words to express the difference between which actions we mean to be platonic and those we mean to be suggestive, then maybe we’d all get a little more of our daily dose of oxytocin. Maybe, in order to remove these stereotypes and rigid understandings of physical affection, we have to get a little uncomfortable first. Then we can have a conversation about what’s appropriate or not appropriate in all of the unique friendships we find ourselves engulfed in. I just want to let my bare arms brush against those I love without feeling the need to apologize. I just want to follow my attractions to those around me without them constantly being interpreted by others as “sexual” attractions. I just want to be able to have the conversation about embracing all and living in a sea of platonic love without being labeled or scrutinized, judged or misrepresented. Maybe then we could all breathe a little easier, love a little stronger, and exist a little more comfortably in the knee bumps and side hugs of our communities.