We could sit in the sun, let the days all roll into one

I really do believe that it is possible for boys and girls, guys and chicks, men and women, to be friends. Afterall, I know plenty of middle aged men and women who have spouses and friends of the opposite sex. After a certain point in our lives, it's not only possible but, perhaps, necessary. 

However, there comes a time when a great friendship--between a guy and a girl--is just going so great, that it has to dive, head first, into murky waters. It's definitely not an uncommon phenomenon. Physical attraction is harder to handle than love. Love can be tucked away in a bottom shelf and kept there. It has no shelf life. It can be forgotten, left without refrigeration. Attraction is a bit more tricky. It doesn't stay away. It's in your fucking face and it can be blamed for terrible decisions and actions.

 

Physical attraction breeds a type of masochism. You fuck around, you get fucked. It initiates a tumultuous whirlwind of flogs and spanks--metaphorical ones, of course (depending on each case individually) but also, an abundance of rewards. The flog and spank end of the bargain is, naturally, the tipsy-turvy confusion of emotion that comes with doing something you probably shouldn't be doing to begin with. Guilt, jealousy, gut-idiocy. To name a few. However, the rewards side evens the seemingly ridiculous situation out. Touching a friend is soothing. You're not all concerned with what you're wearing, what your hair looks like, and the familiar smell of someone you're so close with can often times remind you of, well, home. It turns into something uncannily resembling what biologists like to call reciprocal altruism. Which is more or less when one organism provides benefit to another one without expecting immediate gratification (however, it ends up being conditional overtime.) Basically, he scratches your back...and eventually you suck his cock. Does that make sense? 

 

All in all, I can't say that I've come up with any particularly novel or great theory about why we always end up, in bed, with our best of friends. But I am sure someone will figure it out sooner or later. Perhaps we're all very, very addicted to the exquisite pain of wanting something very unattainable (because, after all, the two best-friends-turned-bed-mates rarely ever end up together.) Do not tell yourself that you two will live happily ever after. You won't. But chances are, your friendship will remain through thick and thin, and that's all that really matters in the end now, doesn't it? 

"I'm tired of the fantasy, because it doesn't really exist. And there are never really any surprises and it never really...delivers. And I'm tired of it. And I'm tired of everything else for that matter. But I don't ever seem to get tired of you."