Perspective Forty-Five
My best friend is a girl. People say that men and women can’t be friends, because there will always be some level of sexual tension, and one person will always want something more. But I say that’s bullshit. Those kinds of things are said by sexually frustrated people who think too much about sex, and don’t have many—if any—genuine friendships. Sure, she’s attractive, and I would never deny it. But I’m not just constantly trying to get out of the “friend zone” or some nonsense like that. We have a real relationship. We tell each other nearly everything, we call each other when something big happens, and sometimes we just send random emojis to see if the other can decipher the meaning. I would say that she’s the only real friend I have. I grew up awkward and quiet, not really coming out of my shell until university. When I started taking neuroscience classes, I suddenly needed volunteers for experiments and studies. I didn’t know a whole lot of people, so I contacted guys I knew in high school who happened to go to my same college. They agreed to help me out, but there was never any indication that they would want to hang out in a social setting with me. So I have a number of contacts who will pull me out of a jam when I’m rather desperate, but no one who just wants to go catch a movie or something. I’ve always found that odd, but those are the cards I’ve been dealt. My only real friend is an agent for artists. She likes subjective beauty, and isn’t really interested in logic. In fact, I’m not sure she believes in it. I, on the other hand, am always looking for the rational answer using science. We couldn’t be more different, but somehow we just work. I couldn’t imagine my life without her. Now, I assume you’re waiting for me to slip up and reveal how I truly feel about her, but I assure you that the romance is simply not there. I’m sorry to disappoint you, but you’re wrong. If you still don’t believe me, then maybe you need to reexamine your hypothesis. Have you ever considered that, or are you capable of nothing more than drawing on your own experiences, or just agreeing with what the other sheep have told you?
Perspective Forty-Seven
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