Four seasons of reasons

People come into our lives; some for a reason, some for a season and some for a lifetime… it is important to know the difference - Linda Oprica

I've comforted enough friends after fallouts with their ex boyfriend, ex girlfriend or ex best friend to tire of a certain excuse.

'If you know you deserve better, then why are you still with him?'
'Because we've been through so much together'

'If you know she's manipulating you then why do you put up with it?'
'Because we've been through so much together'

'If you don't love him then why are you still with him?'
'Because we've been through so much together'

So you get the drift - but I get the tidal wave. Is it just me, or was I sleeping under a rock when it became an unspoken rule that

Thou shall put up with people and their shite if 365 suns hath set.

If you think you're the only one suffering mistreatment, think again. As supportive friends, we suffer with you. It hurts us to see that someone we love can't stand on their own two feet, and use them to walk away. A sane person wouldn't jump in a pool of piranhas, and nor would a sane person allow someone to drain them mentally, emotionally and spiritually. Just because he/she has been doing it for the past year doesn't mean that it 'might as well' keep going for more.

Some people hoard rubbish, some people hoard people. Just because you've escaped the headlines on A Current Affair and Today Tonight, doesn't make you any better than they are. So before you ask yourself why people suffering from Obsessive Compulsive Disorder hoard broken furniture, food scraps and old newspapers - what kind of skeletons are you hiding in your closet?

Letting go of someone does not make you a user-abuser. It's realising that some relationships weren't meant to last forever. Sometimes the best gift anyone can give you is a lesson - and not the hanging around.

Thankyou to my primary school friend Jessica Tearal, who taught me in kindergarten that you're allowed to play with the people in year two, and that your best friend can also be a boy. Thankyou to Emma Grabowski who gave me the opportunity of going on a holiday to Terrigal, and the memory of mastering a dance routine from Bring It On. Thankyou to Brooke Clarke who continually reminded me that I was skinny - no matter how fat I thought I was in year eight, who showed me how interesting the deaf community can be, and the memory of buying identical glittery gypsy tops of a different colour from Supre. Thankyou to Orathine Gaybian (I forgot your real last name) who taught me that timing can determine everything. I no longer, or barely talk to all of these people.

Who remembers doing clay work back in art class? I remember my teacher telling me that over working the clay can cause it to become 'tired'. There comes a point when it will crack in places you try to smooth down, no matter how much water you add. A good artist knows when to stop playing with the same piece of clay and move on. The same goes for people.

Celebrate Singledom

I love writing. But it has its limitations. If words could say it all, there would be no need for art, no need for music. It could be the crescendo or diminuendo of a song, a particular drum line, the syncopation of a jazz beat… that tug at our heartstrings and bring to life a montage of graveyard memories; with a movie like quality, and yet recognised as our own. Yet the songs that conjure up such memories are proof that just because we buried them, doesn't mean they're dead.

Take the song All My Life by KC and JoJo. It reminds me of those teeny bopper relationships back in junior high school. All my life I prayed for someone like you. And I thank God that I finally found you. At this stage the boys were just sprouting their first underarm hairs, and the girls were still giggling about the pros and cons of tampons. I think that for the sake of adolescence, someone should compose a rendition titled All My Infancy.

Then I have the songs that remind me of ex/boyfriends and their ex girlfriends. Just because the song was ruined by you and your failed relationship with her, why should I stop belting it out on karaoke, as I sing in the shower, as I walk around the house looking for the remote? And that's when I promised myself that come future relationships, I will not deprive my partner the joy of singing randomly. Because to speak of it would give the song an importance that it should no longer have.

You know you've moved on when you can listen to the song without setting fire to the stereo, bash your head against the wall, or dart to the other side of the world. So before deeming yourself ready for a new relationship and burying the old one (and the songs associated) - please make sure it's dead. Because new girlfriends don't appreciate zombies calling you in the middle of the night, bawling their eyes out claiming they still love you.

I've heard of boyfriends that refuse to have their girlfriends listen to Irreplaceable by Beyonce. Are you that insecure that she'll gain the confidence to leave you? It speaks volumes about the trust of your relationship, sorry - I mean relationSHIT.

So you get my point. But I bring this up because listening to Never Again by Kelly Clarkson made me wonder why songs like that aren't released just when I need them most. It's just my luck that my breaks up periods are filled with the chart release of lovey dovey anthems. Hence, I struggled during my Seven Stages of Grief - especially when it came to the Anger stage.

So not to miss out on an important life experience, (the one where you build a strong connection between break up experience and Australian music chart) would you believe that I considered breaking up with my boyfriend? As I considered myself a lunatic over the next couple of days, I found comfort in a statistic while listening to the radio:

After listening to a song, 1 in 10 people surveyed ended their current relationship.

And you know what I thought? Good. On. Them. I'm sure that it was not the catchy tune that caused them to break up with their partner, but because the song externalised everything that was already on their mind.

Maybe I was taking Nelly Furtado's All Good Things too personally or too literally - the line 'lovers to friends, why do all good things come to an end?' angering me. What if they're better off as friends anyway? What if the guy was violent? What if the girl didn't appreciate him?

Upon bumping into old friends and inquiring about their love life, my immediate response to the news of a break up was always 'Awww' - purely because I didn't know any other way to react. Why aren't we congratulated for ending relationSHITS with Queen Bitch or Sir-Sex-A-Lot? Why are break ups treated as a tragedy? Surely half of them should be the cause for celebration.

So, today I am turning over a new leaf. And to anyone whose experienced a recent break up, or embracing singledom with open arms…

CONGRATULATIONS!

Self validation

SINCE WHEN did it become acceptable for bright, young girls to portray themselves so proudly in a negative light?

Let's get one embarrassing fact out of the way. We're all suckers for Myspace. Even the people who don't have an account, either…

* had one and deleted it

* use a friend's password to get in

* restrict themselves to browsing public profiles

Is it just me, or is there a growing trend of girls degrading themselves conceitedly on Myspace profiles? Things such as…

"I'm a quarter Filo, half Spanish, an eighth German, two thirds of one sixteenth Chinese…half a fifth Peurto Rican"

(If only you spent half as much energy doing your maths homework, as you do concocting a very creative family history. You've just redefined the term lowest common denominator in my books!)

"I enjoy the simple things in life; by the way here's my wish list…

$43789658643 Tsubi frying pan… $4534576 Gucci toothpaste…"

(I think the word you were looking for is materialistic!)

"I love God… so who's ready to get Smashed at Joe's 21st on Saturday night, anyone know where I can get fake ID's?"

(Which God? I'm sure the other lowest common denominators are just dying to know!)

"Ewww I'm so ugly!"

(Yep, that explains why you've posted forty photographs of yourself, thirty nine with cleavage. Nice job!)

It seems as though self respect was lost somewhere between logging in and personalising one's profile for the first time. Who are they trying to please? Claiming to be the 'life of the party' and 'queen of the dance floor' doesn't stand too firmly when there's another million girls declaring the same title. And if so, my dream scenario would be hosting 'The Annual Life of the Party and Queen of the Dance Floor Party' – and watch all these female ego maniacs fight for attention with one another.

And then there are the people who literally name their friends like a shopping list, with a little dedication to add some sense of credibility. There's a girl I know. Let's name her Tammie*. She was a few grades above me. She was polite and shy – to the extent that I had never seen her face produce more than three facial expressions. That was then. Now she hangs around party goers, clubbers, luvos, drinkers, smokers, druggers. Which makes me wonder, was she always like that, and just dominated by other girls in her group? Or has Tammie transformed herself, and befriended herself with people who don't know the girl she was, or secretly is? What does it say about someone's loyalty to their new best friend of two weeks, having recently forsaken their high school bestie of six years?

After our clubbing years are over; and by the time our grandkids have managed to produce a style of unheard of music; by the time wrinkles have gotten the best of us; after realising that Insight doesn't stock sleeping gowns for the elderly…

While the nerds have billion dollar companies, investment homes, and a good credit history - let me ask you this: where will you be?

Still chasing for the latest runway trends? Still partying? I wonder if the young ones would approve of Piss-Ups-For-Pensions.

I believe that for every criticism, the individual is compensating for at least two insecurities of their own. I am not criticising – but merely sharing observations. I'm not the dance floor diva, and I'm not the self confessed bitch… so someone's got to be the observant wallflower, right? And in this instance, that person is me.

For all you know, panning people on Myspace is the only thing that gets me through my struggle for identity – wanting to go to the very parties that the lowest common denominators go to, and angry at myself for lacking the willpower to stop reading eight hundred page novels.

Only some boys will always be boys. The rest become Men.

Humpty Dumpty sat on a wall.
Humpty Dumpty had a great fall.
All the kings horses and all the kings men…
Called up their Big Brothers, Asian gangsta's, Fully Sick Wog's, and Islander mates to come down as quickly as possible, and bring as many cousins along with them as possible.

If anything, fairytales are the old wives tales about how their husband used to read their kids stories like Goldilocks and the Three Bears, The Three Little Pigs and Humpty Dumpty before going to bed. Because these days it seems that we're bringing up a generation of smart asses. And as if that wasn't bad enough, we're teaching them the fine art of death staring other smart asses - so they can meet up at hotspots like Redfern, Cabramatta and Macquarie Fields to stab each other (or so the news tells me).

I was on the train once, and these old men started fighting about who Australia belonged to - the Aborigines or the Europeans.

'Go back to your own country'

'This is our country now so f*ck off!'

Another time, a big, buff guy was assaulting a smaller, skinnier guy for 'staring' at him. He went as far as pushing the guy down the stairs and smashing a window, of which the glass almost injured a lady sitting nearby. (Unless the guy had eyes on the side of his head, I could have sworn that there was no staring whatsoever).

It just goes to show that we haven't come very far from our barbaric ancestors.

Abner Doubleday invented baseball in 1939. He'd be ashamed to see that in 2007 we're using baseball bats to 'f*cking smash the f*cking cunt over the f*cking head'.

Two million years ago it was most likely a woman who invented the knife! Of which, was given to her husband as a birthday gift for conveniently stabbing other men who posed as a threat. Oh sorry, that's nowadays. It was mainly used for preparing food.

The side that gets their older brothers to fight their battles is no better than the side who decides to use knives. As far as I'm concerned, they're both as pathetic as one another. It defeats the purpose of gaining respect nor revenge; it becomes a matter of which side can out-power the other. And in the end, respect becomes an even farther cry and revenge is only fuelled. It just goes to show, you can't fight fire with fire.

People are too busy living in their own little self absorbed worlds, too selfish, and too damn concerned about the East and the West, Liverpool Boys and Bonnyrigg Boys, Asians and Aussie's etc; that they can't see the bigger picture. So picture this. And feast your mind on a world with problems bigger than yours: Pollution. Disease. Poverty. Starvation. (Yes, world! Not a playground, a park, or an alleyway).

I can't wait till age forces people like these to grow up. So when they know what it's like to have kids and want to protect them from the harsh world, they'll know the fear they struck into the friends and families of the victims they targeted. So when they have a mortgage to pay, mounting debts, school fees and taxes - they'll get a taste of the poverty they never cared to notice before. So when they know what it's like to lose someone dear - they'll know what it was like for friends and family of their victim, see someone they love robbed of the qualities that made them alive: happiness, security, potential.

At the same time, pity stops me from hating anyone. I'd like to think that each and every one of us has a good side and a bad side. It's just that some people let their bad side get the better of them. I'd like to think that for every vengeful gang member, there's a death that was never properly grieved. I'd like to think that for every violent aggressor, there was a tough childhood. I'd like to think that for every alcoholic, there's a weakness, a fear of dealing with reality any other way.

Thankyou Martin Luther King. I couldn't have said it better myself.

The ultimate weakness of violence is that it is a descending spiral begetting the very thing it seeks to destroy. Instead of diminishing evil, it multiplies it. Through violence you may murder the liar but you cannot murder the lie, nor establish the truth. Through violence you murder the hater, but you do not murder hate... Returning violence for violence multiplies violence, adding deeper darkness to a night already devoid of stars. Darkness cannot drive out darkness, only light can do that. Hate cannot drive out hate, only love can do that.

And people wonder why attaining world peace is so difficult; we refuse to even get along in the suburbs. So God help the innocent victim, but more so the aggressor.

Soulmates: Fact or Fiction?

Up until the age of seven, if I wasn't eating, crying or sleeping - I was watching Disney videos of The Swan Princess, Snow White, Cinderella, Aladdin, Robin Hood, Beauty & the Beast, etc. Which believe me, is more than enough time for a girl to convince herself that soulmates were the person you married. That was until I grew up. Come the 21st century with divorce rates and promiscuity on the rise; combined with the growing acceptance of both - I couldn't help but think otherwise.

So when you do the maths and 1+1 still equals 1 (one man + one woman = one soul), the prospect of landing on a single definition of 'soulmate' doesn't look too promising.

Under the concept of Greek mythology, humans had four arms, four legs, and one head with two faces. Zeus (God of sky and thunder) divided each creature in two, condemning humanity as we know it, to a life long search for their other half. It was the act of intercourse that made them 'complete'. Taking this from a religious angle, Lana said that 'when God made us he made someone to match, sort of like Adam and Eve'.

For argument's sake, let's say that we're all destined for one person out there. Based on the chances of probability, a few good million are bound to die due to car accidents, disease, murder etc. What if your soulmate is one of them? What then, is the point of living if the person meant to 'complete' you is no longer alive?

I on the other hand, used to take offence to such a belief, which placed romance as the border between a meaningful and meaningless life. I thought it substantiated single people to feel worthless and committed people to act clingy.

But now I realise that like alcohol, this notion has the potential to be destructive. For example, I'd never date Mr. Suicidal, or encourage girls in abusive relationships to stay with her boyfriend in the name of 'love'. Hence why I believe that there is nothing more admirable than a person who, regardless of how much they love their partner, love themselves enough to leave a bad relationship.

Have you ever locked eyes with a stranger but felt like you've known them your whole life? Why of course not! That crapola only happens in the movies right? Well hear this… In accordance to the Hindu notion of karma - couples are reincarnated in order to resolve problems carried over from their previous life. So if you and your partner still have issues outstanding from your past life, destiny will unite you together again in the hope of reaching a resolution or learning a lesson. So maybe the reason why you're so in love during this lifetime is because you didn't love each other enough before. But being the 2 minute noodle generation that we are - expect everything to be as instant as powdered mash potato. So if you're in one of those on-again-off-again relationships, who's to say your love life won't flourish in the next?

I was rather awakened to my senses when Danny said "If you had a soulmate why would you fall in love with other people? Wouldn't you just fall for the person who's your soulmate?". In a society where you can fall in love with more than one person, how do you differentiate between a multitude of lovers and your ultimate soulmate? Perhaps we've got it all wrong. Maybe this whole soulmate thing is a 'state of mind'. Aileen says "you can have that soulmate connection with a couple of people during your life".

Why is that with bumping into old friends 'it's a small world'? But when it comes to finding your soulmate the world is suddenly big again. Amanda said that finding "one person out of a population of 6billion is farfetched". In agreement, John believed in soulmates but perhaps "they're on the other side of the world, you have to travel the world to find them". So what hope does that hold for us who can't afford to fund such a search? (Applying for next season's The Amazing Race is sounding like a good idea!).

In the brutally honest words of Joseph and Jasmin: "when you're single or in a bad relationship you tend not to believe in soulmates… but when you're in a good relationship you're more likely to believe in them again".

And me? Well, I believe in the ability to love more than one person in your life, even a few at the same time. Because people change. And sometimes you find yourself forever in love with someone's old self. I'd say that my friends are the closest things I have to a soulmate, and even then - it's still not forever. I believe soulmates are merely an extreme form of monogamy. I believe that I am complete in all my wholeness, and lovers are there to accompany you on this wonderful thing called life!

I like the word soul. I like the word mates. Other than that, you got me! - Mr. Big in Sex & the City

Suck Up, She Wrote

I've never been the girl to greet the faces of ten familiar acquaintances, just walking the dog. Nor was I ever the girl who had zilch number of playmates. My identity lay somewhere in the vastness between them. And I was satisfied understanding that much. Until recently.

Having graduated from MSN-aholics Annonymous about two years ago, I know a thing or two about display names. Thus far, I have come across five major kinds:

(1) The girl who advertises her blog site. Yes, that would be me!
eg: love-NOELINE.blogdrive.com

(2) The Plain Jane displaying just their name. They're so popular they need not any artificial fonts, colours, dots, brackets etc. to have people talk to them.

eg: John

(3) The goons addicted to Character Map. Their names are so hard to read I'd have more chances deciphering ancient sea scrolls.

eg: (I'm not even going to waste my time making one up, but you all know what I mean!)

(4) The social chameleons. Just as the chameleon will alternate their colours in a lifetime, these people will change their display names in a day.

eg: BARRY IS A CHAMP. FRED IS MY BEST FRIEND. HANNAH YOU'RE A BABE. DAN I'M ALWAYS HERE FOR YOU NO MATTER WHAT.

(… two minutes later) SALLY AND I ARE PARTY FREAKS. DOMZKIE IS A LOSER! DW I STILL LOVE YA. SHANNON AND JOHN AND MARY MAKE A HOT THREESOME.

(5) The smitten, head over heels in puppy love - type people. Most will flaunt an extravagant arrangement of love hearts (<3 and s2), anniversary dates, lyrics from love songs etc. Fret not, for this method does have it's advantages!

Gone are the days where it could take as long a year for people to realise the end of your coupledom… when you've got an MSN nickname for all to see?!

eg: Mary s2's John 24.4.03 [forever and ever babe] No one else comes close to you.
to

Mary
Having always been most intrigued by display name numero 5, I decided to conduct an experiment of my own. I always wondered whether the last example worked. Would genuinely depressed people post such a thing on the internet? (If so, I suggest that all accounts be compulsorily fitted with a contact from the Kids Helpline!) I couldn't help but perceive these people as attention seekers. Their real life counterparts are the idiots who cut themselves and flaunt it like the new black. Is that a paradox I can smell?

And do all of ones contacts really 'FUCK OFFFFFF'? Because like you're average classroom, there's that kid that will do exactly the opposite of what is asked of them.

A few weeks ago, as some of you may be aware, my display name went from example number 1, to example number 5 - and then some. My display names were along the lines of

"YOU COULD HAVE BEEN THE ONE. I HATE MYSELF. I JUST WANNA DIE! I FEEL SO DEPRESSED!" to "THE PAST 15 MONTHS MEANT NOTHING TO ME! I HATE YOU! EVERYONE JUST FUCKING LEAVE ME ALONE PLEAAAASEEEE!!!"

…all whilst annoyingly signing in and out simultaneously.

In the span of one minute I had 17 random people instigated a conversation with me. Not friends. Randoms! The kind of people who pulled my email address from the magician's hat, or friends of friends I don't talk to. These people were suddenly regurgitating phrases like 'I'm always here for you' and 'Tell me what happened, you can trust me'.

And that's when I realised that these 17 'trustworthy' randoms were only there for me for reasons beyond (or should I say below?) genuine concern. They did not care about the status of my relationship, geez they didn't even know the name of my boyfriend. Like the tabloid hungry paparazzi, most of these people just wanted to be the early bird on the latest gossip.

"THANKYOU TO THE 17 RANDOMS WHO ASKED IF I WAS OK. I KNOW WE HARDLY TALK BUT IT'S NICE TO KNOW I HAVE 'FRIENDS' IN CASE I'M EVER EMO"

So here's my verdict. Real friends have your phone number, not just your e-mail address. Real friends are there for you when you're distraught; and even more so when you're jubilant. The social experiment taught me that not only are there fair weather friends, but also gloomy weather friends. Watch out for both.

Just because

Have you ever seen a Miss-Drop-Dead-Gorgeous on a date with Mr-Ugly-With-Bad-Fashion-Sense and said to yourself "Why him?".

Have you ever seen your ex-boyfriend looking happy with his new girlfriend and for personal reasons asked yourself "Why her?".

… And suddenly we're that annoying little kid that questions everything.

I've noticed that most people will automatically search for the answer in all the wrong places: in the new girlfriend. We let the assumption that she's prettier, skinnier, bustier, funnier and smarter than us get to our head to the point that we undervalue ourselves.

So that my friends is my version of how Miss-Drop-Dead-Gorgeous wound up with Mr-Ugly-With-Bad-Fashion-Sense.

My boyfriend asked me whether I'd get offended if an ex looked at us and asked "Why her?" (insinuating that my boyfriend could do better than me). Surprisingly, my reply was 'No'; without myself knowing why - especially when most people would take something like this to heart.

Then, in one of those moments where a Miss Universe finalist gracefully answers an ordinary question from the top of her head (excluding "World Peace!" followed by an arresting smile) I expressed:

"Why me and not her? The answer would be you"

And that's when I realised that my answer lay not in my attributes compensating for her flaws - but in my boyfriend's change of heart.

Okay, so it's common sense that after breaking up with a liar and a cheater that you'd seek out someone honest and loyal. That much is true.

But their worth as a human being does not change. Because every partner will hurt you through some way or another - and ultimately the one you settle down with is someone who's worth the pain.

WARNING! This entry may contain coarse rudity

There's a fine line between having the resilience to find your true love and being just plain rude.

After a whirlwind relationship, Sally Strawberry and Peter Peaches decided to call it quits. Quits to the life, the kids, the house… pretty much everything they planned to share while living out their perfectly concocted image of coupledom in foreverdom.

Later, Sally Strawberry moved on and started seeing a new guy – Gareth Grape. Everything was going well until Peter Peaches decided he wanted Sally Strawberry back.

So, Peter Peaches would call Sally Strawberry every now and then. He would bring up how good things used to be, how happy they made each other, asked why things couldn't go back to the way they used to be and where they'd be had things been done differently - 'hypothetically speaking', of course.

And how could we forget? The all so casual inquiry about the new person on the scene. How's… that guy, by the way? Or: Hope everything works out with that chick… whatever her name is. When they very well know what his/her name is. Probably even his/her nationality, school, age and reputation by asking around.

Some of us may relate to Sally Strawberry, caught between the intentions of an unrelenting old lover, and the innocence of a possible new, if not greater love.

Maybe you're a Gareth Grape, to have your chances rudely disrupted by someone's emergency case of: "I just realised he/she's The One so if you could get lost that would be great".

Others may identify with Peter Peaches, who will do anything, I mean anything for love.

But at what point does Peter Peaches stop being a ruthless romantic who would do anything to win back a soulmate, to a down right rude jerk who won't give the likes of Gareth grape a fair go?

I believe that the battlefield of love is a lot like a parking lot. And since most of us reading this are on our L's, even on our P's – the concept shouldn't be too difficult to understand. I don't care if you've parked here for a minute before me. I don't care if you've parked here for a year. I don't care if your ancestors have parked here for three consecutive generations. You took off and lost your spot. Why should relationships be any different?

So what's suddenly given rise to these hooligans thinking they can walk in and out of a relationship as they please?

Maybe it's the sight of seeing them happy with someone else. Maybe it's the realisation that what used to be is actually meant to be. In any case, it all comes down to one thing. RUDITY.

Rude because you've shitted all over the clean slate your ex partner has started with someone new.

It parades a lack of respect towards the new comer – who struggles to form a stable relationship because you refuse to let another one close; with your suggestive comments, desperate pleas and shifty reminiscences.

It stamps the word selfish on your forehead. You wouldn't want it happening to you, so why do it to someone else?

In the name of true love: move mountains, walk a thousand miles and cross the oceans all you like… but by all means DO NOT interfere with an ex until the coast is clear.

BE FAIR, OR BE SQUARE!

I love Cameron Diaz, so I don't have a crush on Justin Timberlake. It's rude. I wouldn't like it if people had crushes on my boyfriend - Paris Hilton in Cosmopolitan (Feb 2007 issue)

My big fat greek Philia

Philia, means friendship in modern Greek, a dispassionate virtuous love, was a concept developed by Aristotle. It includes loyalty to friends, family, and community, and requires virtue, equality and familiarity.

They (including my art teacher) say that a boy and a girl can never be just friends. That since the pair get along so well, are bound for something more – a romantic connection down the road. I believe it's all a bunch of poppy-cock. Whoever said that was making friends with wrong members of the opposite sex.

I don't believe in Santa Claus, Fairies, Ghosts or Soulmates; but I do believe in the possibility of a heterosexual best friend relationship.

Men may come from Mars, and women may come from Venus – but here on Earth they can be seen walking down the street side by side – now how smashing's that eh?

A disadvantage is that you STILL cannot check out other guys. All you'll get is the usual "I don't know, I'm not gay!". Yet if there's a fat slob with snot running down his face, toddling with a more than visible ass crack will say: "Now there's one hell of an ugly mo'fucka!", without even being asked.

Now to the overweighing advantages. Drumroll please. You can ask all those simple and not no so simple questions about the male anatomy and receive a clear cut answer in return. For example:

> Is it true that the bass from a stereo can make your balls tingle?

> Do boys really get turned on by having his balls sucked

So on and so forth. Topics of which would cause a group of teenage girls into hysterics – you'd think they were betting on shares at Wall Street.

You also gain a boy eye perspective on things. They'll admit whether a girl is attractive, stuck-up or… beautiful. Like, how often do guys use that word – beautiful unless they're describing their mother's home made spaghetti? I speak on behalf on most girls out there that we regurgitate the word like no tomorrow. We meet some girl once and think she's beautiful. Another girl is beautiful because she thought we had a nice pair of killer heels. Don't even get me started on the word hot. Girls will call each other hot all the time to each others face and wn't even mean it half the time. It's like "Woops, I accidentally called her hot, I'll go bitch to my friends about her weird hair, her flat chest or her fat legs".

But the most important thing I've learnt from having a male best friend is this kind of love and concern that supersedes the romantic, sexual kind – it's somewhat purer and reassuring. The phrase 'I love you' is handled more responsibly then that in a girlfriend boyfriend relationship. In the times that they're said, are made without doubt, malice or regret. In the same way a couple will claim that they just know when they're in love, best friends will just know that it's nothing more, nothing less.

He won't treat you chivalrously, as good or bad as that may sound. To him you're one of the guys, and to you he's one of the girls. He'll grapple with you over something clenched in your hand until it hurts to fight back, will carry your bag if need be, but won't object to letting you carry his jacket while he walks around the auto show like a kid in the confectionery isle.

If a boyfriend told me never to speak with my best friend, along with other close guy friends, I'd tell him to find some mindless bitch who actually does everything her boyfriend would demand. Because if you date me, you date the whole caboodle – the family, the girlfriends and the best friend. There's no competition, the boyfriend and the boy friend are in a different race altogether.

Girl Power?

There are two defining moments in a girls life. The first time she admits she's finally made real friends, and the first time she admits to herself that some of them would rather spend time with their boyfriends over her.

In primary school our best friends were the girls you played handball and netball with, the girls you belted out songs by the Spice Girls with, while puppetting mini Cabbage Patch Dolls on a stage made out of lunchboxes. By graduation, have we lost the plot?

Whatever happened to the dream of the girls only road trip? It was traded in for the vision of endless nights of undisturbed quality time with the boyfriend.

We've become a society of dumpers. Dumped the family for the friends who are so much cooler. Dumped the friends for the boyfriend who calls you beautiful. Funny thing is, your friends have been calling you just that for years. Being cheated on by a boyfriend sounds like spilt milk compared to this kind of ultimate betrayal. It makes me not want to make a new friend again.

Don't get me wrong. I'm happy for the friends in love, the friends who've loved and the friends anticipating love. But personally, if love means that I'll subconsciously end up abandoning my family and friends – no thanks, maybe next lifetime.

I've never been one to make my boyfriend my best friend. So maybe I've risked my chances of ever finding a 'soulmate' but the comfort of friendship is so much more reassuring to me.

I'm safe when I'm in a relationship and know that if we broke up, I'd have someone to call in the middle of the night who'll listen to me through sobs about why it had to come to this.

Romeo and Juliet ain't got shit on Romy and Michelle.