Friendship Sex

I spent the weekend with Ana doing basically nothing. We went shopping, she got her hair done while I sat in the salon reading, we walked around, ate chocolate, watched SuperStar. Then André had a birthday party at the Landsberger Juze yesterday and somehow I’m sick now.

I’d actually helped him pick the music—good stuff, Muse, The Killers, The Subways, Bloc Party, +44, Sum 41, The Strokes. The DJ ignored all of it and played 90s techno the entire night. Can’t complain, I suppose, since I was driving and couldn’t drink anyway. So I spent the night looking cool with a bottle of mineral water.

The party itself was fine. Bene got wasted and started going off about women’s liberation, which is funny because he hates women. I made Ana a series of increasingly terrible cocktails. Silvi showed up, this girl I hadn’t seen in ages—she’s always busy with something. André was trying to photograph every hillside in sight. Nothing crazy happened but it was decent. We’re doing a proper lake party this summer with a bonfire, I’m serious about that.

Sitting in the salon waiting for Ana, I found an article about whether men and women can actually be friends. The argument was basically: these friendships exist, but there’s always sexual tension underneath, and if you ever sleep together, you destroy it. It got me thinking. Can you really just be friends with someone you’re attracted to? Does sex automatically kill the friendship?

No idea. Guess which magazine published that one.