On love
I do love each and every one of my friends. If I am not madly in love with the idea of you, you just can’t be my friend; it doesn’t work any other way.
At the time of writing, I have been back to France for a couple of weeks now after my annual Thanksgiving trip back to Canada. I am now also a holder of a multi-year residence permit (not yet a permanent resident), meaning I don’t have to stress every 10 months to renew my residence permit and drop 225€ each time I do, plus additional lawyer fees, which normally you don’t need, but apparently, I needed this time. The text message came three days before my departure to Canada — Your residence permit will be ready for pickup on 06102025 Pay 225EUR Remember PASSPORT OLD PERMIT FISCAL STAMP. The relief that it left me with, I can actually enjoy my time in Canada, I don’t have to keep checking my phone, my online account, or asking my friend who agreed to check my mail if a registered letter has come for me that I need to have my lawyer action on. Though I might have been in Canada the day my residence permit was available for pick up, I knew that when I got back to France, I at least had temporary freedom, which turned out to be freedom for four years.
Looking back on my trip to Canada, I must say, I was intoxicated. Not intoxicated, but intoxicated. Not on alcohol or drugs — okay, maybe a bit of alcohol — but on love. Love for my family, love for my friends, love for my home country. I do love each and every one of my friends. If I am not madly in love with the idea of you, you just can’t be my friend; it doesn’t work any other way. Recently, I came across an article about the different categories or types of love the ancient Greeks came up with. My relationship with my closest friends is truly characterised by philia:
Philia is the love shared between close friends, characterised by loyalty, mutual respect, and shared values. Aristotle considered philia as essential to a well-lived life, describing it as the love that binds communities together. Unlike eros, philia is not driven by passion but rather by deep emotional bonds and companionship.
Love in all its forms: The seven types of Greek love to celebrate this February by Sofia Araujo
Now, while this characterises the love I have for almost all of my friends, some of them wouldn’t be any different than the love I have for a lover — maybe that’s why I’m still single? Okay, maybe not eros, but pragma, the love that comes with time; one that is about understanding and patience, that is built on choice and perseverance. Thinking back, of all the people I saw while in Canada, the shortest friendship of those would be Quinnivire, whom I only met in person for the first time last year, one year into our friendship. My friendship with Quinn is one of intense philia, some eros, and a lot of pragma. The admiration, the adoration, the respect I have for that woman is intense. There are very few people I can tolerate for 8+ hours in a day, and she is one of the few. Though she never shuts up (with love), she is never not saying something intellectual, or that has not changed the way I think, articulate, and see the world. This is just one example of my ardour for my friends; just barely on the edge of eros.
To say I have no passion for my friends would be wildly incorrect. Eros is embodied by passion, and that is the line that is blurred when it comes to my friends. There’s truly nothing better than my friends, there’s nothing that is wrong with them, there is never a time that I do not want to support my friends or spend time with them. The difference between my two versions of eros, friend and lover, is found in possession. Yes, they are my friends, my confidants, but they are not exclusively mine. Between friends, there has to be, to an extent, attraction. I wouldn’t sleep with my friends, but I would, without a doubt, say that I am attracted to them. Not physically, but… I don’t have the words for this. Spiritually? Intellectually? Maybe the word is intellectually attracted, if that exists. Going back to the example of Quinn, I am passionate about her intellect, about her words, about her lived experience that she so eloquently puts into words. That is what I mean by eros in friendship. And I think that having such an attraction is necessary in adult friendships. And that is so very important since there is no longer a need to be with your friends. We don’t spend 8 hours a day together in school, there is no necessity in association as an adult, so, by that simple note, we must be attracted to our friends, otherwise we would never see them, and why would you see someone that you’re not attracted to?
Pragma. Understanding, patience, choice, perseverance. Embodied by my dearest friend, Taylor. She’ll probably be my best “man,” if I ever get married and if we don’t need to activate our marriage pact (and it doesn’t look like we’ll need to, at least on her end). The situation we became friends under, was, unique, to say the least, it was not an interaction I was looking for, or wanted, nor did I expect to come out of that interaction with a friend that is now such an important part of my life; it has officially been five years and one month since. There are no words that exist for me to express my reverence of her, she is the woman that I revere the most that is not blood related. She’s the one that’s always there for me, listens to whatever randomness I have to say, no matter what’s going on in her life. We can equally tell each other what we’re thinking, without any repercussions. If one of us thinks the other is in the wrong, we say it, and we listen without judgment or prejudice. Earlier this year, my actions, or rather lack of actions, hurt her, and she told me bluntly and honestly. We both actively make a choice to always listen to and support each other. Again, just barely on the edge of lovers, like her ex used to say (precisely, he would call us ‘secret lovers’). Now pregnant with her third (not including two miscarriages experienced last year), she is the strongest woman I know. With the absolute horrors she has gone through over the past three years, it amazes me every day how she continues to smile and find a laugh in everything that happens. We jointly laugh our f*cking asses off, by text, day in and day out, despite the seven-hour difference.
Until now, the Greeks have been able to articulate my love for my friends, except for one, a silent love. Ember, as Madi first introduced herself to me, is my second-longest-lasting friendship. Though we’ve never met in flesh — despite having been on the same continent, in the same country, just hours away from each other, during a train strike — the trust I have in her is paramount. Ember is my go-to graphic designer, actually, my only graphic designer (she has designed all but one of my logos). Generally, I give her a vague description or multiple ‘vibe references’ and she translates it all into the most stunning graphism, making sense of my vague notes and exclamations. Over the past nine years, we’ve seen each other grow and change; told each other when we don’t like one of the other’s friends, and still, we are there for each other like it’s second nature. Though we might not be fully present in each other’s lives, we pick up where we left off and reply to each other as soon as humanely possible (sometimes before the other has finished writing their message). Most importantly, we create an environment for mutual respect and love, regardless of the word we might use in place of love. My relationship with Ember reflects the notion that there is no such thing as a 50/50 relationship; sometimes I put more effort into tending to the relationship, and sometimes she does. Like all relationships, friendship is a give-and-take while silently supporting the other, operating on the basis that there is no end in sight, ever.
I can go on and on and on forever about my friends — Olivia, Nawaaz, Carla-Marie, Laura, Fiona, Kyle, Areeg, Ksenia, Matia, Kate, among others (in no particular order) — alas, this essay must come to an end. I do love my friends; they are central to my life. I love my friends.
This is what I mean when I say I love you.
To each one of my friends, individually, I vow to you, to hold the very idea of you in my heart with the same care and respect five-year-old me would carry a four-leafed clover, every day, all day, for the rest of my life. Because five-year-old me did not know the true likelihood of finding a four-leaf clover.
Happy adventuring,
Ahmed
Things I’m enjoying at the moment
L’art de voyager sans billet by Jack London: A French translation of the work The Road, which I originally bought as a birthday gift for a French penpal. I decided that as a gift, I’ll read it and annotate it, so when they read it, they can also read my thoughts and ideas. It’s a light and easy read, and a very short read, and I’m very much enjoying it. Extra points for the story beginning in Ottawa!
Sour watermelons from Bulk Barn: While in Canada, I made a very important stop at Bulk Barn to pick up some very, very important candy, my favourite sour watermelons from Bulk Barn. There’s none that taste as artificial; the Maynard’s version just isn’t nearly as addictive.
Stroopwafels from The Netherlands: My friend Laura sent me about 2kg of stroopwafels and my favourite candy from The Netherlands for my birthday over the summer. As I write this post, I’m eating the very last stroopwafel I have left. The candies were inhaled in about 2.78 minutes on my birthday.
Mithi sev (sweet noodles)
A recipe from my maternal grandmother that makes me just as warm and fuzzy on the inside as my friends do.
Serves A LOT (8+ servings)
100g butter
250g angel hair pasta
1 cinnamon stick
a handful of raisins and/or chopped nuts
1L water
100-200g cane or brown sugar, to taste
a splash of heavy cream
In a heavy-bottomed pot, melt the butter over medium heat. Once melted, add the angel hair pasta, mixing every 30-45 seconds until the pasta becomes slightly darker than golden brown.
Add the cinnamon stick and the raisins/nuts (if using), and mix. Heat until the cinnamon stick becomes fragrant.
Add the water and sugar, mix until dissolved. Bring to a boil, then reduce to a simmer. Cover. Every 3-5 minutes, remove the cover and mix. Cook until there is just barely any liquid left; it should bubble up when you scrape the bottom of the pot, just barely enough to continue cooking using residual heat.
Turn off the heat and remove the pan from the element. Cover and allow the rest of the liquid to be absorbed, about 10-15 minutes.
Once the remaining liquid has been absorbed, add a splash of heavy cream and mix it in.
Serve warm. Can keep in the fridge in an airtight container for up to 4 days (though it probably won’t last that long). If storing in the fridge, warm before serving in the microwave.