A break-up is good bye for ever and ever
Whoever slaps you with the suggestion that you remain friends after a break-up must clearly never have loved you or wants to continue reaping the rewards.
Why on earth is it called a break-up if she continues tagging along and saying "I'm with him" when she should be doing time for her indiscretion. I had this other ex telling me: "That's our song." Hello, break-up puts everything in the past tense.
After a break-up, we say: "That used to be our song." And anyway, what the hell are you doing still reminding me of a closed chapter?
Anyone who wants to be friends has got to be the biggest leech or just hates a few traits about you and wants to window shop her odds while stringing you along. As soon as she has found a better option, poof, there goes your so-called friendship up in smoke.
Or she might window shop and come back to borrow the credit card, get the dress and go out on a date with someone else. It's a behaviour that spirals out of hand if you let the dogs out. It has happened to me too.
This guy from Limpopo, let's call him James. After making me take a rear, side and frontal view of his Hyundai Elantra, asking if I had ever seen anything prettier, he got the boot.
His sexual orientation remains a mystery to be solved, but that's a topic for another day. He said he wanted to remain friends. Fine by me.
My stupid cousin left the lights on and my car battery was dead in the morning.
Guess who came galloping in his Elantra white horse? After three wrong batteries and a wrong radio code, (never buy a Honda SUV) James looked at me with a face that said he had earned his stripes to move beyond the friendship level. Wrong move. Sit down, reverse your car. Drive away. Good dog.
That's all you become when you allow such people to use the friendship card. It's as if things get out of hand.
James continued sending me presents and at one stage he paid for the petrol for me to go and visit my young lover. I didn't know why he didn't give us spending money while he was at his generosity crusade.
Let it be known that James knew exactly about my relationship status from the day that I moved on, but he chose to delude himself into thinking that I would hit the relationships glass ceiling and come back cap in hand.
And that's the lame psychology behind the remaining friends' notion.
I guess, given my previous leeching ways, you wouldn't put it past me to assume the James role with my recent break-up.
Stupid is what stupid does. I once allowed a guy to use the comradeship scheme. I was to take him home after band practice as we were friends. I was also to open my fridge for his taking, that's what most friends do. My friend was always in my purse and wanting me to comfort him. Hello, you dumped me, not the other way round.
No it's wrong. When love is lost, the greatest act of friendship lies in the way that you react when you bump into each other, not the meeting twice a week charade. It does not only look bad to the party who came with the friendship suggestion, it also renders both of you idiots who are still hung up on each other.
It goes deeper too. I have this thing about the universe holding you hostage where you fear to let go.
With a guy or girl like that in tow, the chances of finding someone worthy drop by percentages. Everywhere you look, people will look like they have butts for faces. No no no. I've got it all figured out now. Such people bring bad luck.
I'm reminded of this topic because even though they promised to remain friends, my other friend has been slapped by a wedding invitation from her ex. They have been calling each other about everything under the sun and even though she knew he was now in a committed relationship, she didn't quite think that she'd have to see him off one of these days.
"What the f*** does he think I am, his best man?" she asked with tears in her eyes.
Now that's not a friendship spirit. It's mayhem that she would have learnt of a few years later if she had nipped the poisonous facade when he suggested it.
Some people are snakes. They string you along like the taxi sticker that reads: "I wish my enemies a long life so they can experience my success first hand."
These friendships cannot be trusted because what friend is going to applaud you for finding someone more beautiful, successful, dynamic, sexy or articulate when you leave? Competition always rules the terms.
James, having had enough of the underdog role, decided to come and adorn my driveway with a new sleek machine.
"These days, I've got money like dust," he gloated, and it made him look like two barking dogs. Isn't it better to lose a lover than to love a loser?
But more importantly, with friends like him do I need enemies?