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On my most recent trip to Los Angeles, I had dinner with a good friend of mine. Calling him “a good friend of mine” makes me smile because, if you had asked 18 months ago, I certainly would not have labeled him as such.
If you asked about “my good friend” then, I would have told you about our devastatingly fantastic first date followed only by our devastatingly fantastic spur of the moment trip to Austin (three days later). I’d tell you about our charisma and spontaneity and you’d fall in love with it all. Then, just as you got invested, I’d pour a big glass of wine and tell you that our quick romance ended nearly as hastily as it began.
“He essentially ghosted me, but I was too prideful to reach out and ask why,” I’d say.
Our quick, romantic tango ended as fast as it caught on fire and I the only thing I could do was hide my disappointment behind a whole variety of “at least it was a great story”-isms. I’d go on to date other people and so would he.
Then, somehow over the past year, we reconnected. He apologized for ghosting and I apologized for being a little crazy. We waded back into friendship, first with drinks and then with dinner. Over time, he became a confidant of sorts, the kind of guy I went to for tricky advice and a stiff drink. Sure, I’d still look at him and think, “damn, you’re pretty,” but my desire to rip his clothes off wasn’t strong enough to jeopardize our reconciliation. When I moved to DC and we stayed in touch, phone calls and texts became a gleeful, mid-week surprise.
As we reconnected I always wondered, is this possible? Is a friendship between the two of us something that we can honestly pursue? Or, try as we may, will our friendship always be the pieces a broken, frantic attempt at courtship that didn’t work out? Will one of us feel unrequited, the other annoyed and ready to move on?
So, a few weeks ago at dinner, I took a moment to check in with myself. Could I forget the first kisses and drives up the coast? Could I move past the pillow talk and lazy mornings?
I thought I could, but as I sat across the booth from him, my gut responded with a resounding “No!” There was this lingering heat between the two of us, an imprint of the inevitable intimacy that comes along with dating, even if just briefly, that layered our conversation in a sticky amber-colored glow that I have never known among platonic friends.
The shine on our friendship was distracting. It felt enticing and rich, reflecting all of the things — his ambition and kindness and frank way of looking at the world that initially attracted me to him. This will never just be “friends,” I thought. The air is too charged, the delight to see each other too eager.
And just as I came to a decision, he said it. The thing I had most anticipated.
“I’m seeing someone nice,” he gushed.
I waited. I waited for the amber to vanish and for the squirming in my stomach to begin. I waited for the envy to flood in and for the previously charming glow of our reconciled friendship to curdle into green, spiky discontent. I waited and waited, and then, it didn’t come. The amber stayed amber and that’s when I knew.
He and I are something different. Our friendship isn’t platonic, but it is no longer romantic either. We have elevated to a different space, a space in the heart I couldn’t previously put into words. The third space.
The third space is rooted in trust. It’s reserved for the people that we trusted with our bodies and our crushes and our attempts at love. It’s for the people that made us giggle and swoon. The ones that we stayed up too late for, texted about nothing with, and unabashedly kissed in public. It’s a space reserved for the “what ifs,” the “almosts,” and the “damn, that was funs.” A space that allows you to look at a person and think, “God, you’re beautiful. I hope you meet someone incredible one day.”
You know you’re in the third space if, when you see each other, you smile big. If you look up between bites of a chicken sandwich and say “Yeah, but I know you!” You’re in the third space when you’re proud to have been with a person but equally as excited for them to move on.
“Kid, you’re gonna do great,” he says to me now.
In the end, the third space friendship will never be the friendship of those who weren’t once romantic. And really, how could it be?
Maybe this is why we advocate to “stay friends” after a relationship. Not because we need more platonic friends, but because we don’t want all of that squishy love to go to waste. Sure, there will be flings and one night stands and brutal exes that we hope we never see again, but there’s also a place where lust turns to friendship with an amber hue. It’s a select group of people that can live in that in-between.
That night at dinner, when I first realized the third space existed like a cavernous bubble in my heart, I was relieved.
I don’t have to choose. I don’t have to feel nothing or everything about him. I can savor the good times, all the while recognizing that there is no romantic future for us. I can snuggle into that comfortable in-between.
So can you be friends with your ex? Well, define “friend.” I dare say Liam and I have a long road ahead of us, and if that friendship stays a sticky, intoxicating amber forever – I’ll be one very happy girl. .
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CallMeVictoria
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No.
Agreed. First and only time I saw my ex was 3 years later when we happened to be in our hometown at the same time. Had been casually talking just about how things were going, then she asked me to grab drinks. Long story short we ended up making out in my car and hopping into the back seat before we decided that probably wouldn’t be a good idea. Haven’t spoke since.
You have to define Ex appropriately. Someone with whom you had a short fling, while yes they are technically an ex, is very different from someone who you were in a serious relationship with. Unless they were terrible people out of the gate, usually short relationships just kinda fade out on their own, and it’s easy to form a friendship. But when you had wedding talks and thoughts with someone, it becomes a lot harder to have an honest friendship. Sure you can be civil and polite should you come across each other, but saying you’re friends is a stretch.
Totally agree. High school serious relationship? No want or desire to stay friends. Fling in college that nearly no one knew about? I still see him at least every couple of months, and wish him and his fiance nothing but the best. He is one of my best friends, was with the first to arrive and the last to leave at my wedding, and I have nothing but very friend-like love for him. Did we ever wonder if it could have worked? Sure. Could I ever see us actually dating? Hell no. But friends we will stay.
I’m glad you can say all that nice stuff about Roy after he wanted to beat the wheels off of Jim that one day.
Good thing Dwight had bear repellant on hand.
I mean she went to the dudes wedding man
I can say that there are ex’s I am on good terms with and wish nothing but the best for, but full blown “let’s go grab a bagel” friendship? Nah. That’s when you end up with Getting Back In The Game.
Personally for me, I don’t like keeping them around because they tend to complicate future relationships. I have enough friends, I don’t need exes taking up mental space.
I’m friends with my college ex. We just weren’t compatible and we realized that during the relationship. Sure, the break up was tough. But since then, we’ve actually built a great friendship. Last year I visited him in DC and we spent a long weekend traveling, because we were both in a rut (unrelated to each other) and needed a fun trip to cheer us up. Nothing happened between us on the trip, because there’s no spark. We’ve dated other people since our break up and have talked about them with each other. So, it can happen. It’s rare, but it happens.
You did not just describe a friendship
Absolutely not. There is a reason that they didn’t make it to your future. Let it go and leave broken glass lay.
I think it takes a level of maturity that I just don’t have. I like my exes in the past. It usually takes me a while to move on and I feel like any attempt at friendship would just be hurtful.
Not to say I’m not friendly and cordial with my exes but I wouldn’t consider any of them friends or hang out with them like friends.
I’m fully on board the No train, but I know my girlfriend would say Yes.
I have people I’m friends with that I kind of had a fling with, but I wouldn’t call them exes. I also think the weird sexual tension keeps them from ever being real friends.
People I’ve been in a serious enough relationship to call them an ex? No way. I can wish them the best and be civil, but it’s too weird to look at someone you talked about having kids with and talk about their boyfriend or your girlfriend. Everyone acts like its cool, but that takes a level of maturity I’ll likely never have.
My girlfriend’s ex is one of her best friends, and as the new boyfriend and someone that would also now call the guy a buddy, it still rankles the shit out of me every once in a while.
To her, they were never really serious because she didn’t see a future with him, so she can be friends with him. To me, they dated for a year, he’s met her family, gone to work functions with her, and did all the serious boyfriend stuff before I did. Every time I get reminded of that fact, I just want to go “Cool.”
You’re a better man than I. That would irk the shit out of me dude.
I think you can if you’re single. It’s a lot harder once you start seriously dating someone. It’s natural to not want your s/o to hang out with someone they’ve been with.