A love letter to my friends

Heading into my 21st consecutive Valentine’s Day being single, it would be easy to feel resentful. From Instagram hard-launches to theatrical public displays of affection, I’m frequently reminded of my rather abysmal love life. And now, with Cupid decor adorning shop windows and advertisements for The Best Gift for Your Loved One, the buildup to the holiday is inescapable.

Love is in the air, or so they say.

With no one to so much as flirt with, let alone surprise me with a romantic candle-lit dinner or a bouquet for Valentine’s Day, I would’ve appreciated it if Feb. 14 had disappeared along with the 29th, 30th and 31st.

But with the rise of Galentine’s Day in recent years, I’m reminded to reflect on all the love I have the fortune of experiencing day-to-day. Particularly, my favourite kind of love: platonic.

I don’t know much about love, but I don’t think it requires romantic comedy-style grand gestures. It’s not pebbles at windows, confessions in the rain or petal-laden bedrooms.

It’s much simpler than that.

Love can be as simple as the black honey lipstick applied generously to a friend’s lips in the club queue or spare hands helping to curl unreachable strands of hair. Love is debriefing over mugs of tea and laughing over forgotten digicam pics the morning after a night out. It’s the “I needed this” after a belly laugh that leaves you gasping for breath.

Love is walking arm-in-arm all the way home, huddling for warmth like penguins; it’s unreasonably long Snapchat vlogs sent back and forth to keep each other updated on the most mundane things. Love is shared plates over dinner because we’re too indecisive to choose just one. Love can be as simple as “Text me when you get home.”

A saying that’s always stuck with me is, “I know love exists because my friends exist.” My friends are full of the most beautiful love I’ve ever experienced.

With my friends, there’s no need for performance. I don’t have to be interesting, funny or clever. I don’t have to worry about replying to their messages too quickly or that any bout of clumsiness will give them a justifiable excuse to ghost me, vis-à-vis “the ick.” Silences aren’t awkward; arguments are constructive and not final.  

With my friends, our closeness is not determined by proximity. Regardless of how long we spend apart, nothing changes upon reunion. We fall back into familiar patterns, the same reminiscing conversations, the recurrent inside jokes — boys will come and go, but our jokes about them will stay forever. I’m afforded the comfort of being the most unfiltered, authentic version of myself, and I know they will love me regardless of whatever whacky conversation starter or random hypothetical question I come up with.

Don’t get me wrong, I’m a hopeless romantic at heart. But with increased pressure on romantic love, it becomes much too common to rush into relationships and force connections, which ultimately end in disappointment and heartbreak. It’s bleak out here in the modern dating scene! There are only so many times I can scroll on Hinge before losing my mind over the current dating pool. Your most irrational fear is women? Good one! And if I hear, “It comes when you least expect it” one more time…

I have heard myself described to others as “unlucky in love,” and sure, I’ve yet to find my Prince Charming, but by no means have I been unlucky. I’m blessed to have fulfilling friendships that I’m certain will outlast countless romantic relationships and remain constant parts of my life.

I don’t know much about love in the romantic sense, but I will forever be grateful for the platonic love I receive from my array of wonderful friends. The ones who remind me that my cup can be full without a significant other to fill it.

And so, this Valentine’s Day, I vow to spend forever falling platonically in love, and I encourage you to do the same.

I wouldn’t trust my heart in the hands of anyone else anyway.