Platonic, it’s a fun word to say, say it, and taste it as it rolls around your mouth much like the texture of banana. It’s not defined to a taste though, it tastes more like saliva, and it feels like hope. Not defined like cinnamon, or nutmeg, not even close to banana, actually closest to steak. Yet it is, the feeling of hope, wish and wonder, interfered with and destroyed by desire and curiosity, trampled by jealousy, and burns much like the flicker of a candle in an open room. Sucking for oxygen and being threatened by what fuels it as it flickers, breathing, but if it breaths too hard… it will be blown out, darkened, leaving behind a few seconds of smoke and darkness until eventually someone comes along to reignite the wick much like a friendship for it to only endure the same inevitable outcome.

You can think of all the scenarios, different outcomes and situations as you please but there is always one standard rule for all. Sex. If they are a person of the opposite sex and you have struck up a friendship think about why, you are attracted to them in some way, may it be; mental, physical, visual and always sexual. Hey girls, so your best ‘guy friends’ how many of them have you screwed? All? Did it start innocently and end innocently? No you fucked. And if you didn’t, will you never hit on him? Will he never hit on you? One of you will, yep then your platonic relationship is screwed. Hey guys have you ever struck up a friendship with a girl without ever thinking about or wanting to bone her? Didn’t think so… And don’t say you haven’t weighed up the likelihood of you fucking the girl that comes in on Fridays to deliver paper and packages takes your signature and leaves, or the guy at the café who presses and grinds your coffee and fluffs your milk to make one take away latte with one sugar every morning. And if we wern’t fuckable’ to each other than we probably wouldn’t be friends. But at least once we have fucked we can move on building stronger relationships knowing that it just didn’t taste right. And we can only hope that jealousy doesn’t find out, or act out. Nature has built us this way, men are a herd of horny raging bulls who need to fuck and spread the seed and women are a bunch of horny cows who want to get bent over and fucked. And don’t think your best mate hasn’t thought about himself and your missus, vice versa.

Platonic, how does it taste now? Like cynicism, banana, or imaginary like saliva?



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