You name it

I have always believed in the power of words. Not just the power of saying or not saying something to someone. But also that by naming things, fears, desires, you get hold of them, they must fit in the shape your words are giving them, they are not anymore that amorphous, scary, nameless mess.

I thought about this this morning because I realized I am coming close to something I publicly say I am looking for. Namely a fuckable best friend. At least according to my Tinder profile. I have a friend with benefits (I am struggling how to put this), and yesterday we met up for some beers and… stuff. We got into an interesting conversation about why we do not commit certain acts. Like smuggling drugs on planes. He says he doesn’t do it because if he gets caught and has to call his family to rescue him, it will be too much of an embarrassment in front of his mother. Then he goes on saying what he had said to me many times before, that his family is the only group of people he completely trusts.

I think about this while listening to him. I admire and envy his connection with his family. We both live outside of our countries of origin, he even on another continent, yet his ties seem to be stronger. I do have mine, but we do not keep much contact, my mother being the only exception. She shows that she cares. And I show that I care, too.

But why don’t I smuggle drugs on planes? Because I know that I have no one to call if I get caught. Not necessarily because they don’t care. But because my folks are just more resigned. They accept whatever life throws at them. If I got caught it is because I was stupid enough to get myself in that situation in the first place. And because I have come further than any of them. In certain terms at least. And I feel there is no way back. Though if I really got caught, I would eventually call. At least to tell them what happened. And then would try to get out of that shit alone.

But yesterday, sitting among a lot of young-ish people on a square where they let you drink in public, sipping my beer and eating some trash food with him while talking about fears, alcoholism and threesomes, I felt a kind of connection I rarely do. And he definitely is fuckable. So careful with your words.

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