By: Ed Dzitko

It’s today, I think.

Why do guys put us through this? Why do they ruin everything? Does every woman they all meet have to be a conquest, a notch, a trophy?

I’ll admit I like how it feels when our hands touch, or when we hug, laugh, or cry. But I don’t want to kiss him anywhere other than on the cheek. I don’t want to get into his pants, and I don’t want him in mine.

As so, I’ll sentence our years long, fun, casual, platonic, can-tell-you-anything relationship to death.

“I think we should stay just friends,” I’ll say.

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