The title of Lynne Truss’ book on punctuation Eats, Shoots and Leaves, has always amused me. I love how the addition of that one comma drastically alters the sentence and what was meant to be a simple fact about panda bears becomes a comical (and dangerous) situation.
I thought of this book as I sat in bed the early morning hours of the new year. I had just taken my first sip of coffee in 2020. It was a cup of coffee that I did not make and it was a cup of coffee that I did not request. It was a cup of coffee that, without me knowing, was placed near my face as I slept. It’s invisible smell twirled into my unconscious nostrils and then, like a cartoon character following their nose to a freshly baked pie on a window sill, I woke up sniffing.
In front of me was an outstretched hand holding this cup of coffee in a perfectly shiny, perfectly red mug. It could’ve been Heaven. Or an IKEA ad.
“What a perfect start to the day, to the year, to the decade!” I thought as I sipped. “I could get used to…” But before I could finish that thought, reality abruptly reared her head. She came with the reminder that even though I was in the bed of someone I’ve been visiting for over a year and a half, this was still a bed that belonged to, pardon the expression, a fuck buddy.
I’ve never been a fan of the term ‘fuck buddy’. I go out of my way not to use it and for the past few years, prefer to call those I’ve been intimate with as lovers. Many people laugh when I do. I think they can’t help but hear Rachel Dratch and Will Ferrell crooning ‘lov-ah’ in a hot tub. But I don’t say it to be dramatic or funny. I say it because, casual or not, my decision to be intimate with someone is not one I make without some serious thought. My lovers will always be important to me for one reason or another.
Especially this particular lover. Our non-relationship/relationship has been a consistent, surprising, fun, unique, eye-opening, blindfolding good time. It’s why I trusted him with my last hours of 2019 and my first hours of 2020. But when I received that cup of coffee, my brain took it upon itself to twist the non-relationship/relationship I knew and loved and created what the comma did to the panda bear’s eating habits - a dangerous situation.
I envisioned him waking me up like this every day. Every new year. Living together, being in love, maintaining our odd libidos despite everything working against us.
“Fuck, buddy!” I said to my brain. “Why are you going there?”
I knew perfectly well our connection wasn’t meant for that scenario. We weren’t Friends with Benefits that would see the light and finally fall in love in a flash mob. I knew all this, accepted all this, was happy with all this and yet for a brief moment my brain decided, “No, this should be something more!”
Even though it was just a cup of coffee and not a wedding ring, it was still a reminder that despite all my self-proclaimed growth, I’m still getting used to simple acts of intimacy and kindness coming complimentary with relationships of all kinds, even the casual ones. I hope that changes. Because even though the disruption was quick, it made me question what I knew was a perfectly good thing. What I knew shouldn’t change. He has exactly one photo hung up in his apartment. I have over 30 in my entrance. It would never work! And that’s ok.
Putting limits on our relationships with others doesn’t make the relationship flawed, it makes it honest. Whether it’s your Sunday lover or a parent or a colleague, no one should be forced into a role they don’t want to or can’t play. Fuck your buddies (or your brain) and their judgement. Punctuate carefully but don’t be afraid to edit your script, change your settings, and write the scene that works for you.
Happy new year!