Fornikate

What if he and I were meant to be friends?

A friend asked me this after another situationship inevitably failed to develop into more.

Internally, I sighed. My friend was today’s victim of the epidemic of non-committal men—the I’ll do just about anything with you, but call you my girlfriend type.

“Had we not met on Hinge, I wonder if we could’ve been, like, really good friends. Would you ever be friends with an ex?” she posed.

My initial thought was that she was right. Had they not met on Hinge, it was entirely possible they could’ve had a wonderful friendship, barring the reality that they likely would’ve never crossed paths.

One of my biggest criticisms of dating apps is that they place so much pressure for a connection to be immediately romantic. The truth is, most people you meet are just passing through—guests in your life for a drink, a laugh, or maybe a weekend.

The subtle magic of dating is in those first moments. Maybe it’s meeting him at run club, breathless but laughing, realizing you both hate hills. At first, it’s coffee after practice, light and easy, trading stories about playlists and races. Then coffee becomes drinks, and those teasing glances across the table linger a second too long.

It’s the way you push at each other’s boundaries—half-joking, half-testing—trying to see where it could go. Sometimes it’s nothing more than friendship, but in the beginning, before you know, the possibilities feel endless.

With a dating app that natural progression becomes almost obsolete. Instead, I’ve found myself trying to squeeze a man that I was never meant to meet into areas of my life where he was never meant to fit. 

My immediate reaction to her question was to say no, but the sureness of my answer made me hesitate. I had never been friends with anyone I’d been romantically involved with after. In fact, it wasn’t something I would’ve ever considered.

I never wanted any of my exes in my life. I often kicked myself for not dumping them sooner. But then I thought—why was it always a dumpster fire ending? I did, in fact, know people who were friends with exes. Granted, it was often when much time had passed or an ex turned out to be gay, but I did recognize the possibility of friendship after dating.

So why was I incapable? And why was I so opposed?

When I think about previous relationships I’ve had, I can say I’ve been very fortunate in that they were incredibly passionate. I’ve always felt that I had these great lovers. The type of men and whirlwind romances you could write books about…or maybe a short story would be more accurate.

But when I thought harder beyond that, what had I really felt besides, well… dickmatized? Some exes were better than others, but none of them had any of the qualities I valued in my closest friends.

I felt slightly sheepish about my realization. It seemed so elementary. I was realizing this well into my adulthood and far into my dating experience.

I had such incredible standards for friendship. As a kid, my mom had drilled into my head the importance of keeping my circle small—that not everyone needed to know my business nor deserved to. She was right, and I kept that practice into my adulthood, only offering the title of friend when trust and a true connection had been built.

With that in mind, I couldn’t help but think that selectivity with a romantic partner is just as—or even more—important. If I was going to share my time, body, and eventually maybe even a life with someone, shouldn’t they be subjected to the same filtering process as a best friend?

Growing up on telenovelas, where a romance was never complete without passionate sex and grand gestures of undying love, I think I always thought chemistry was enough. That intensity meant intimacy. But it didn’t.

My friendships always started with something tangible—shared interests, similar values. There was effort, consistency, and care. That kind of depth was always missing in the people I dated.

And maybe that’s why I never stayed friends with any of them—because once the fire went out, there was nothing beyond it. 

It made me wonder—if I’d paid closer attention to emotional compatibility instead of just the physical, would things have ended differently? Or maybe… not ended at all?