Shreya Sen-Handley | Count on friendships this romantic month

“In the Spring a young man's fancy lightly turns to thoughts of love,” the poet Tennyson trilled at springtime two centuries ago. I may not have been around then but I’m old enough to know better now. Every word in that sentence feels out of touch with the current state of our planet (I do adore dreamy pomes, but romance is a harder sell these days). Maybe because gorgeous daydreams — like those in which the Lotus Eaters wallowed — are so hard to sustain in our splintered world. Had I been impressionable enough to fancy anything beyond chocolate and rest, hunky Hollywood men having become academic interests, my thoughts might have turned “lightly” to romantic escapades. Yet, even in this month of inescapable kitsch and compulsorily performative passion, it would feel utterly pointless.

Don’t get me wrong; love is everything, but only the kind that sets in after the first fluttery months, putting down roots and growing with the decades. True love’s efflorescence is felt beyond its circle of two, like a full-grown tree in its height and girth, giving shelter, fruit and shade, to its entire ecosystem. This kinda love — of lifelong partners, of parents for children and vice versa, and tried and tested BFFs — is what we should celebrate this romantic month (and round-the-year besides).

But if the word ‘love’ is frittered away on insta-friendly hook-ups and fleeting infatuations, so’s ‘friendship’ used too loosely! Not unlike how we bandy the word ‘genius’ about this century, laying it at the clay feet of every slick tech bro running rings around us. Over Christmas, when friends should never be forgotten and always brought to mind, a conversation with an eager new colleague got me thinking about the nuts and bolts of friendships. They questioned my assigning them the appellation of acquaintance rather than friend after a mere fortnight of interaction, and though I felt like The Grinch and Scrooge rolled into one, dismissing friendly overtures with a ‘bah humbug’, I also felt compelled to explain my unswerving stance on friendship.

My friends are enormously important to me, forming an exclusive club to which I don’t admit people easily. Oh, not more essential than ties with the closest of family, but aren’t they, after all, my most beloved friends? Our bonds having been tested every day and proved resilient? But equally, my dearest friends I think of as family. So a friend isn’t a proper friend till they’re practically family, and mere relatives aren’t family unless they’re also true friends. Not only do both F words mean a great deal, they’re also synonymous to me. Capisce?

So what’s my criteria for bonafide buddies (ask yourself the same Q and you might find your life satisfactorily simplified)? I had an interesting exchange with writer Hanif Kureishi on social media more than a decade ago, when I was new to Facebook and he wasn’t (or was just inherently wiser). He insisted it was impossible to make genuine friends on social media and I scoffed at this, naively believing back then to have found whole hordes of them. After over a decade of middling and unfortunate experiences on platforms I can no longer be bothered to frequent, I recognise that the Buddha of Suburbia was spot on.

Our ideas of friendship have become especially fudged since social media turned us into meta morons, bamboozling us with its false intimacy into believing that our ‘friends list’ was heaving with peeps whose overheated emojis and horror of orange buffoonery made them actual pals of ours. People we first engage with on social media can indeed become chums, but rapport and reliability over a long stretch IRL is the only proof of good intent.

Friendship is quantifiable and should absolutely be measured. Whether neurotypical or atypical like me, there are areas in our lives where we should wholeheartedly keep count, and camaraderie is one of those spheres. We’re constantly reminded that the best things in life are indefinable and gossamer, but we’re also told to count our blessings — and what are friends but the latter? Money splurged or gifts lavished can never buy love or friendship, though it will attract parasites; as The Beatles had warned back when. But time, oh time invested in a relationship, is the unimpeachable yardstick of its authenticity. Love is not love till it’s stood the test of time, after all, whether of the romantic or platonic variety.

You don’t even need to see those you call your friends a whole lot over your period of familiarity, but ask yourself if they were there for you in your moment of crisis. Have they sympathetically listened to you cry, cooked you a meal when you were too ill to try, picked you up and dusted you down when no-one else bothered? If they did them once, they’re pals of course, but more than once and they’re kindred spirits.

Most chums, best buds included, will fail you now and again. If you’ve got past preening together on Tik Tok, and have embraced each other’s ups and downs over the long hop, you’ll know that human nature is a catchall of capriciousness. There ain’t a person on earth who will come through every time for you — even YOU will let yourself down! But if they’ve attempted to help even half the time, you’ve got yourself a solid confederate.

So, wherever your thoughts may roam in this month of romancing, keep track of those who love ya best.