LaToya S smith

I am in love with at least five of my friends.
Some are women, some are men.
I am not polyamorous. It isn’t that kind of love.

The relationships I have with them are what I feel romantic relationships should be like—but they aren’t. I’m not sure why. I’m guessing it’s because of the expectations those relationships hold, and the limitations that come with titles. Those have always been silly to me.

At 36, I realize that my friends—even those I may be highly attracted to (as is the case with one of my close-to-perfect work buddies)—are better off as just that. Even when he tells me I look good without makeup and makes sure my work plants don’t wither, I’m not imagining him meeting my mother or taking cheesy family photos. I love him in the moment, for everything he is and what he adds to my life. And to me, that’s enough.

Which brings me to my point: I think our platonic friendships tend to last and thrive with growing love because we’re usually not asking, what else? We don’t feel unsatisfied with them. We’re quicker to apologize, and more cognizant of how we make each other feel. At least I am.

When I tell my friends I love them, I’m not sitting back wondering if they love me too. I know they do. I can tell them my hopes and dreams because the security of my household (and theirs) doesn’t depend on the job I choose to take or the amount of writing I’m not doing. Platonic relationships feel more honest. More real.

I’m not trying to impress my friends. They didn’t meet my representative. So they don’t have to deal with the bewilderment of finding out that I can be a little distant sometimes or that my matter-of-fact speech might come off as apathy. Nor am I faced with the shock of realizing I’m bound to a stranger. We can just be ourselves, which—to me—is the piece most often missing from relationships where people take on new names and unwanted responsibilities.

Not long ago, I was sitting at a table with my father and brother. I was explaining to my brother how I felt bamboozled by this guy I had been talking to. My dad walked away to get a beer, and when he came back, I said,

“Daddy, where’s mine?”

He said, “Oh honey, if you want one, I’ll go get it.”

And he did.

I looked at my brother and said, “This is why I don’t have a man.”

He tilted his head and said, “I’m glad you know.”

It’s true that my father spoils me. It’s true I look at men funny when they say they don’t know how to make coffee or furrow their brows when I ask if they’ll tie my shoelaces.

At this point, I’m much more impressed with my work husband and work homies than the men who claim they’re after my heart. They walk on the outside of the sidewalk and make sure I get to my car okay. They bring me snacks and cover my meals at the food truck. One of them has been taking me out just about once a week. He goes wherever I say we should go. We have the best conversations. He doesn’t judge when I say Ancestry.com is a sham or when I share my darkness. There’s laughter, honesty, and fun.

When we’re done, he goes home to his beautiful wife. I know her. She’s warm and radiant—and a fine mother to their children. He has never said anything wayward or out of line. My backside has never been “accidentally brushed.” He’s never blamed anything on the alcohol.

He is my friend. I love his intelligence and the way he always gives me a hard time about everything.

Another one of my friends was like a superhero when my brother was killed. She came to my father’s house every single day. Braved my room there even though she smelled like ganja and knew my dad was going to get on her case. She made sure Levi had bacon every day. One day, when she was calling to check on me and I didn’t answer, she dropped off some Twin Snakes and red wine to make sure I could relax. And she got me a gift certificate to the spa.

She calls me a hippie all the time, which is hilarious, but I’ve been different for a long time now—and I’m cool with it. Finding others who appreciate it is a gift. I might love her mom more than I love her, but that’s a story for another day. She is golden.

I don’t want to exhaust you with how much I adore the folks in my tribe. I thank God for them every day. I am in love with them.

To me, that doesn’t mean what it usually does. I’m not talking about love in the Disney sense. I mean it in the sense that I feel giddy around these people. I fall into their smiles, and their laughter walks on me. Their voices are my puzzle pieces.

I pray for my husband daily. I pray that he will honor me and be good to Levi. When he shows up, I won’t be looking for him to make me whole or fill in my gaps.

He only needs to be able to say like seven phrases.

Love on your homies. Especially now.