There's 'brodancing': guys, clutching beer and talking about fishing while swaying (vaguely) to the music
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But, one day, our girlfriends colluded to declare it so; and thus we were thrust into a newly coined relationship. Weird, I know, but not uncomfortable.
I tried changing my relationship status on Facebook, but that's not an option (no, my bromance is not complicated). But, we all know Facebook is notoriously prudish, only acknowledging monogamous love. And that's the thing with bromance, it's a practical polygamy, all cool and acceptable, and unlikely to force you to decide which first lady to haul out for the next presidential engagement. You'll never get accused of cheating, mainly because physical contact is non-existent, unless of course it's one of those spontaneous bear-hugs brought on by acts of sporting genius.
Hell, I don't even know (or care) what my bromantic partner is up to right now. I have no idea what food he likes and have never considered the colour of his eyes, though I was vaguely perturbed to discover that Terminator 1 listed in his top-five movies.
It's a win-win-win situation. Your girlfriend's not going to feel threatened by your other third and he knows when to get on with his own life. Sure, you might hear us bragging about placing "bromance before homance", but that's just bro-vado, a thinly veiled attempt to align our middle-aged liaisons with the street. In fact, with chicks digging it so much (they're laughing with us, not at us, right?) the only problems I foresee are from other "bros" who want to add a little "mance" to our friendship. No confrontations yet, but there have been quick glares of jealousy and many a changed subject when I mention my new relationship. I guess those furrowed brows are asking the same question I still ask myself: what's the dividing line? When is a "bro" more like a beau?
Look it's only been a week, so I'm no expert, but Wikipedia is. And Wikipedia says that bromance was coined in the '90s by Dave Carnie, the editor of skate magazine Big Brother. He referred to the relationship that develops when two skaters spend loads of time hanging together. But this portmanteau is only new in name, not nature. Aristotle picked up on these feelings long before man learnt to attach wheels to a surfboard, writing, in 300 BCE: "It is those who desire the good of their friends for the friends' sake that are most truly friends, because each loves the other for what he is, and not for any incidental quality." Probably not his most memorable words, but atavistically accurate: bromance is not a product of our time, but a timeless and noble pursuit.
That doesn't excuse MTV-mug Brody Jenner from calling his reality show Bromance (I'd have stuck with "Bro-Die"). Sure, he probably did it because he used to date Nicole Richie and wanted to impress everyone's favourite BFF/NBF/XBF by owning some urban slang too, but it smacks of egotism. Brody couldn't tell his "bro" from his elbow when seasoned couples like Ben Affleck and Matt Damon, George Clooney and Brad Pitt or Bill Clinton and Al Gore were happily flaunting it. And then the classic originals: Lord Byron and Shelley. Ok, so they might have taken their love to another level but, as this was kept deep in the closet, they appeared to their peers as nothing more than two grown men who liked spending all their time together. It's probably better that it wasn't named back then. Bromantic poetry? C'mon!
So it's an old thing. But it has a fresh descriptor, which means as bromance's popularity grows, so will the traditionalist's ire. There's bound to be a backlash from those who see it as a direct affront to their hallowed sense of normality. But fear not, for any presence in mainstream culture is likely to be more token than total. Who wants to watch a sequel called "Bromancing the Stone" or hear Gwen Guthrie singing about "no bromance without finance"?
Bromance does, however, have its own rituals and a fast-growing vocabulary to match. First up: "glove". This is the (strictly platonic) guy-love you have for your bromantic partner. All bromances start with "glove", with some reaching the ultimate zenith, being "in glove". Then, there's "brodancing": two guys, clutching beer and chatting about fly-fishing while they sway clumsily in (vague) time to the music. Ok, that's nothing special. It's pretty much any guy in any club; not exclusive to a bromance. And I've heard that when three bros get together it's called a man-age-à-trois. But we're not going there. Who knows what the future holds for bromance? In my case, we share interests, and that's the foundation. We both like a bit of bloodletting, politely packaged within the square circle of full-contact sport. We use the same BlackBerries and can spend hours nodding our heads in time to obscure music. So, a long-term bromance looks promising. Chances are that, in a few months, the name (and connotation) will assume its rightful place in the bottomless pit of human bonding, alongside "fruit flies", "relationsheeps" and "friend collectors". But, for now, this bromance is real. It's no "faux-mance".
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