February rolls around, and suddenly the world is drowning in roses, heart-shaped chocolates, and content about romantic love is seen all over social media. Couples everywhere are making dinner reservations, planning surprises, and posting declarations of devotion.
And I’m thinking about my friends.
Not in a romantic way. Not in a “we should be together” kind of way. But in a way that’s made me realise that everything I thought I knew about love, I learned from friendships. From people who show up. People who stay. People who see me fully and choose me anyway, not despite my mess but with it.
This is about platonic love, and why it might be the most important love we ever experience. This is about the friendships that became my blueprint for understanding what real love actually looks like.
When Romance Taught Me the Wrong Lessons
For years, I thought I understood love because I’d been in romantic relationships. I thought love was butterflies and passion and intense feelings that made you sometimes lose sleep. I thought love was grand gestures and dramatic reconciliations and choosing someone despite the red flags because “love conquers all.”
I thought love was supposed to be hard.
My romantic relationships followed patterns I started to question: the hot and cold communication, the anxiety about whether they still cared, the wondering if I was too much or not enough, and the trying to be the perfect version of myself to keep them interested.
And then I had friends who showed me something completely different. Something that felt nothing like the turpsy-turvy I’d been calling love. Something steady, consistent, and real.
The Paper Room: When Wuraola Showed Me What Showing Up Looks Like
I’ll never forget the day I went looking for my Physics 101 result. If you’ve ever had to find your exam results in a physical paper room, you know the chaos, sheets upon sheets posted on walls, hundreds of names, everyone crowding around trying to find theirs in the sea of results.
I was stressed, anxious about what grade I’d gotten, overwhelmed by the crowd and the mess of papers everywhere.
And Wuraola came with me.
She didn’t have to. She wasn’t looking for her own results. She had no stake in whether I passed or failed Physics 101. But she followed me to that paper room and stood there with me, helping me search through endless lists of names and numbers.
Did we find my result that day? No.
But was she there with me? Yes.
And that’s when I learned what love looks like. It’s not about the grand gestures or the successful outcomes. It’s about showing up in the mundane, frustrating, ordinary moments when someone needs you. It’s about being present even when there’s nothing exciting or Instagram-worthy about it.
Wura taught me that love is standing in a crowded paper room, helping someone search for results that don’t even belong to you. Love is showing up not because you have to, but because that’s what you do for people you care about.
In my romantic relationships, I’d been looking for what was never there. But Wura showed me that real love is quieter than that. It’s following someone to a paper room. It’s being there even when “there” is inconvenient, boring, or ultimately fruitless.
That lesson changed everything.
Winnie and the Mirror: Learning to Love Myself First
Winnie told me something I desperately needed to hear: “The way you love yourself will determine how other people love you.”
I was talking about how I had yet to do certain things for myself because of everything that was going on at the time.
And Winnie, in her gentle but unflinching way, held up a mirror.
She said: “If you’re not loving yourself right, the people you meet, particularly in romantic relationships, probably won’t love you right either. Because you’re teaching them how to treat you. You’re showing them what you think you deserve.”
I wanted to argue. I wanted to say that my self-love had nothing to do with other people’s behaviour. But deep down, I knew she was right.
I wasn’t loving myself well. I wasn’t seeing myself in the right way. Circumstances were gradually trying to erode who I was, and I needed that reminder.
Winnie taught me that platonic love isn’t just about how friends love you; it’s also about learning to love yourself through the example they set. She loved me fiercely, consistently, without reservation. And by doing so, she showed me what I should be giving myself.
This is the lesson that transformed my romantic life: I had to learn to be to myself what my friends were to me. Consistent. Kind. Forgiving. Celebratory. Present.
Once I started loving myself the way Winnie loved me, I stopped accepting romantic relationships that felt nothing like the love I’d learned from friendship. I raised my standards because I finally understood what real love looked like, and it started with me.
Bisola: The Friend Who Shows Up, Again and Again
Bisola is the friend who taught me that consistency isn’t a one-time thing. It’s not about showing up once when things are falling apart and then disappearing. It’s about showing up time and time again, in seasons of crisis and seasons of calm, when you need her and when you don’t.
She’s the one who checks in not just when something dramatic is happening, but on random Tuesdays when nothing is wrong, but she knows it’s been a tough week. She’s the one who remembers the things you mentioned in passing, the job interview, the difficult conversation, the doctor’s appointment, and follows up without being asked.
She’s the one who’s been there through multiple heartbreaks, career changes, family crises, and ordinary days that blur together. And her presence hasn’t wavered.
This is what love looks like: not the intensity of a single moment, but the accumulation of countless small moments where someone chooses to stay present in your life.
Bisola taught me that real love is measured in consistency over time, not in grand gestures or dramatic declarations. It’s the friend who shows up for your third heartbreak with the same compassion she showed for your first. It’s the person who’s still answering your calls years later, still checking in, still caring.
She showed me that consistency is not too much to ask for. It’s the foundation of real love. And once I experienced it in friendship, I couldn’t accept anything less in romance.
Hallelujah: Strength and Presence Like Cold Water to a Weary Soul
There’s a verse that talks about cold water to a weary soul, and that’s Hallelujah. Her constant strength and presence are exactly that: refreshing, life-giving, sustaining.
When I’m exhausted from carrying everything, she’s there. When I’m weary from trying to be strong for everyone else, she offers her strength. When I’m depleted and empty, her presence fills me back up.
Hallelujah taught me that platonic love isn’t just about being there in the dramatic moments; it’s about being a consistent source of refreshment in someone’s life. It’s about offering your strength when theirs runs out. It’s about being the person someone can come to when they’re too tired to keep pretending everything’s fine.
She doesn’t just show up when things fall apart. She’s the steady presence that prevents things from falling apart in the first place. She’s the friend whose strength you can lean on, whose wisdom you can trust, whose presence brings peace to chaos.
This is love: being cold water to someone’s weary soul. Being the person who refreshes, who sustains, who strengthens.
And it taught me what to look for in all my relationships, romantic or otherwise. I learned to seek out people whose presence brings peace, not chaos. People whose strength supports me rather than competes with me. People who refresh my spirit rather than drain it.
The Friends Time and Space Won’t Let Me Fully Name
Time and space would fail me if I tried to mention every friend who has shown me what love looks like.
There’s the friend who stayed with me on the phone when I couldn’t stop crying after losing my mum. The one who brings me food when she knows I’m too overwhelmed to cook. The one who tells me hard truths because she loves me too much to let me stay stuck. The one who celebrates my smallest wins like they’re major victories. The one who shows up to events that matter to me, even when they’re inconvenient for her.
The one who sees me at my worst and makes me feel like even my messiest moments don’t make me less worthy of love. The one who’s been there through every season, the good, the bad, the boring, the chaotic, with the same level of commitment and excitement.
Each of these friendships taught me something different about love. Together, they created a blueprint I didn’t even know I was building.
How I’ve Learned to Show Up Too
But here’s what’s important: platonic love isn’t one-sided. These friendships work because we show up for each other.
I’ve learned to be Wura’s presence in the paper room, showing up for the mundane, unglamorous moments. I’ve learned to be Winnie’s mirror, holding up truth even when it’s uncomfortable. I’ve learned to be Bisola’s consistency, checking in again and again, not just when it’s convenient. I’ve learned to be Hallelujah’s cold water, offering strength and presence when my friends are weary.
This is what platonic love taught me: romance often didn’t: love is reciprocal. It’s not about one person giving and the other receiving. It’s about showing up for each other in the ways that each person needs.
My friends love me well, and I’ve learned to love them well in return. Not perfectly, because I mess up, I sometimes forget to check in, and I get too caught up in my own life sometimes. But I keep showing up. I keep trying. I keep choosing them.
And that’s what real love is: the continuous choice to show up, to be present, to care.
What Platonic Love Actually Looks Like
Here’s what I learned about real love from friendships that had no romance, no physical attraction, no future wedding planning, just people choosing each other consistently:
Love Is Showing Up (Even for the Unglamorous Moments)
Love isn’t just being there for the crisis moments; it’s following someone to a paper room to search for exam results. It’s showing up for the boring, frustrating, ordinary moments when someone needs you.
Love Is Truth-Telling That Comes From Care
Love is holding up a mirror and saying, “You’re not loving yourself right, and that’s why you keep accepting people who don’t love you right either.” It’s telling hard truths because you want the best for someone, not because you want to hurt them.
Love Is Consistency Across Time
Love isn’t the intensity of a single moment; it’s showing up time and time again, through multiple seasons, with the same level of commitment. It’s the accumulation of countless small acts of presence.
Love Is Being Strength When Someone Else Is Weary
Love is being cold water to a weary soul. It’s offering your strength when theirs runs out. It’s being the steady presence that brings peace to chaos.
Love Is Reciprocal
Love works when both people are showing up, when both are choosing each other, when both are offering what the other needs. It’s not one-sided service; it’s mutual care and presence.
How Platonic Love Changed My Standards
Once I experienced real love through friendship, I couldn’t see it any other way.
I stopped mistaking intensity for depth. Butterflies and drama aren’t signs of a great connection; they’re often signs of anxiety and uncertainty. Real connection feels safe, steady, like cold water to a weary soul.
I stopped accepting people who didn’t love me the way I was learning to love myself. Winnie taught me that my self-love sets the standard, and I finally started believing it.
I stopped celebrating the bare minimum. My friends set the bar high, not through demands but through example. They showed me what it looks like when someone truly cares.
Why We Don’t Talk About Platonic Love Enough
Our culture is obsessed with romantic love. We have an entire month dedicated to it. Entire industries were built around it. Endless songs, movies, books, and poems about finding “the one.”
But platonic love? We call it “just friends.” We diminish it. We act like it’s the consolation prize when you can’t find romance. We don’t have a Valentine’s Day for the friendships that saved us, the friends who showed us what real love looks like, the platonic relationships that taught us we’re worthy of consistency and care.
This is backwards.
Because for many of us, our closest friendships are where we first experience unconditional love. Where we learn that we can be fully known and still fully loved. Where we discover that real love isn’t about passion, it’s about presence.
Wuraola, Winnie, Bisola, Hallelujah, and all my other incredible friends weren’t my backup plan while I waited for romance. They were the blueprint. They showed me what I should be looking for in all my relationships, romantic or otherwise.
Platonic love taught me:
- Love is a choice you make every day, not just a feeling that happens to you.
- Love should make you feel safer, not more anxious.
- Love celebrates your growth instead of feeling threatened by it.
- Love tells you the truth because it cares, not because it wants to hurt.
- Love shows up consistently, not just when it’s convenient or exciting.
- Love sees you fully and doesn’t ask you to be less.
- Love is reciprocal; it works when both people show up for each other
These aren’t romantic love lessons. These are human love lessons. And I learned them all from friendship.
What February Should Really Celebrate
I’m not against romantic love. I love love, and I also love Valentine’s Day. I’m just saying: two truths can coexist together.
We’re celebrating the feeling of falling in love, the butterflies, the infatuation, the early stages when everything is new and exciting.
But we should be celebrating the love that stays. The love that shows up when the butterflies fade, and real life gets hard. The love that’s still there on boring Tuesdays and stressful Thursdays and devastating Fridays.
That love isn’t always romantic. Sometimes it’s your best friend following you to a paper room. Sometimes it’s the friend who tells you hard truths about self-love. Sometimes it’s the one who shows up time and time again. Sometimes it’s the presence that feels like cold water to your weary soul.
Sometimes the most important love stories of your life don’t end with weddings. Sometimes they’re the friends who taught you what it means to be truly seen, truly valued, truly loved.
A Letter to My Friends
To Wuraola, Winnie, Bisola, Hallelujah, and every friend who has shown me what love looks like:
Thank you for being my blueprint. Thank you for showing me that love is showing up for paper room searches and hard conversations and weary seasons. Thank you for being consistent when the world taught me to expect chaos. Thank you for seeing me at my worst and making me feel like even my messiest moments didn’t make me less worthy of care.
Thank you for teaching me how to love myself by loving me so well. Thank you for being cold water to my weary soul. Thank you for showing up time and time again with the same level of commitment.
You’re not “just” my friends. You’re the people who taught me what real love looks like. You’re the reason I recognise love when it shows up in my romantic life. You’re the standard.
You set the bar. You showed me what I deserve. You taught me what I should be giving to myself and expecting from others.
And that’s everything.
For Everyone Reading This
If you have friendships like this, tell them. Don’t wait for February 14th. Don’t wait for a special occasion. Tell them now that they matter, that their consistency means everything, that the way they love you has changed how you understand love itself.
And if you don’t have friendships like this yet, know that it’s possible. That there are people out there who will show up for you, see you fully, and stay anyway. That platonic love is real and profound and life-changing.
Don’t settle for friendships that feel conditional, one-sided or draining. You deserve friends who show you what real love looks like.
Because real love, the kind that transforms you, teaches you, saves you, doesn’t require romance. It just requires someone who chooses you consistently, sees you fully, and loves you anyway.
That’s what my friends taught me.
And it’s the most important love lesson I’ve ever learned.
Redefining Love Month
This February, I’m celebrating platonic love. I’m celebrating the friendships that showed. The friends who taught me what consistency looks like. The people who saw me at my worst and made me feel like even my mess was lovable.
I’m celebrating Wuraola and Winnie and Bisola and Hallelujah and every friend who’s ever made me feel seen, valued, and worthy just by showing up.
Because platonic love isn’t less than romantic love. It’s not the consolation prize. It’s not “just” friendship.
It’s the blueprint for all other love. It’s where we learn what real love looks like before we can recognise it in romantic form.
So here’s to the friends who love us without needing romance to justify it. Here’s to the people who show up for paper room searches and hard truths and weary seasons. Here’s to cold water to weary souls.
Here’s to platonic love, the love that taught us what all love should be.
Who taught you what real love looks like? Was it a friend, a family member, a mentor? Share your platonic love stories in the comments.
If you made it to the end of this post, leave me a comment or like this post. Also, do check out my previous post on ‘Writing What Scares Me: The Posts I Almost Didn’t Publish’ here and check out the latest episode from my podcast here.
