Friendship Nisi

“Friendship is the marriage of the soul, and this marriage is liable to divorce” – Voltaire

When do you end a friendship? Is there a legal process? Do you have to declare a “Friendship Nisi” or announce your separation? Do you take an ad in the paper or send out cards like that scene in “Eternal Sunshine” letting everybody know that you and X are no longer pals and shouldn’t mention them in your presence again?

The levels of friendship are varied and detailed but can be best surmised on the following scale:-

*

Cock

Twat

Prick

Whohellhe

Nodding acquaintance

Bloke

Mate

Friend

Crony

Best mate

Bumchum**

* - There is a worse level than Cock and we all know what it is but this is a family blog not The Guardian so it won’t be reprinted here.

** - Not usually literal. Usually used by spurned Cronies to comfort each other that they have not achieved alpha-friend status with said object of affection.

Bloke & Mate level tend to be reserved for work acquaintances and/or male partners of female friends/relatives. You might get a friend out of work but no more than one or two unless you are one of those creepy David Brentalikes who keep going back after you have left and confirm what everybody thought about you in the first place which may have led to you leaving.

People usually carry out internal friend audits and work out how many they have, who can be let go, space freed up for new one’s etc. The usual limit is one best mate or bumchum, two or three cronies, four or five friends, and approx. ten or more mates. It would be easier if there was a proper squad system implemented when people coud be allocated numbers according to their level and like the charts, can rise or fall according to their current status. This could even be publicised and could have a whole slew of spin-off programmes debating the reasons for changes and predictions for the future. Far more entertaining than Big Brother.

The above just relates to male friendships. As usual, women have far more complex, arcane and arbitary systems to decide standing and status. For instance, the concept of the “Frenemy” is as alien to a man as an A-line.

Ultimately, Friendship, Acquaintanceship, hanging out, whatever you want to call it, is a two-way street. You either do or you don’t want to hang with someone. Sometimes things change. Sometimes it’s because of you, sometimes it isn’t; and sometimes it’s because you would rather stay at home and watch Cheaters than shoot the breeze with a pinhead who you only know because your cousin went out with a bloke who worked in the same place as their sister to begin with.

The Bloggers Harsh Truth

"Pearls before Swine"
http://www.comics.com/comics/pearls/index.html

The Home Straight beckons

Was it really April 3rd when I last posted on here? Guess "Gifted but Lazy" wasn't just a clever title then.

Stacey arrives on Sunday 2nd July and everything is now building up to it. I am nervous about itas anybody who has lived by themselves for three years would be, now turning over yourself and your place to the idiosyncracies of another person, no matter how much you cherish and revere them.

For a start, girls smelling abilities functions on a higher plane than mens. That is why they invest in candles, airwick fresheners etc. Because they can smell the filth that pervades your man-lair. What you consider an irresistably inviting mix of masculinity, pheromones and integrity merely registers as one up on cat pee to your average woman.

Similarly - the dust. What dust you cry?

Exactly. You just cannot see it for the life of you but like the bridge over the chasm at the end of "Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade" it's an optical illusion. Once pointed out, there it is. A finger smear of shame, proving you are no more adept at keeping a clean house than one of the mentalists that Aggie and Kim rape-through-industrial-cleaning-and-abuse regularly.

To compound my sins, Stacey is an American. Which rightly or wrongly, brings with it a whole different level of unmeetable expectation. My perfectly adequate two bed semi now seems little more than an extravagent wendyhouse at the bottom of somebody's garden. The state-of-the-art British air-conditioning system (open windows) is now obsolete and the functional kitchen is revealed as little more than a fisher price playset writ large. Dumping my beloved George Foreman grill was merely a prelude to the nightmare of change and responsibility to come...