Menace or Muse: On Queerplatonic Friendships

Ladders, Laughs, and Love beyond Labels

“I used to describe myself as a lesbian, and then I slipped on some good dick.”

I laughed so hard I nearly fell out of my chair, tears streaming down my face. She smirked, probably delighted she’d flustered me. I loved flustering her right back. Loved the play of it, the harmless, thrilling sparring.

We met by chance, introduced by a mutual friend who was sure we’d vibe. She was a riot right out of the gate. Witty, hilarious, unfiltered. Clocking in at 5’2” with big, expressive eyes that turn mischievous at the slightest opportunity. I’m 5’9”, something she was unreasonably delighted by.

When I stood up to give her a hug when we first met, she gasped and said, “Oh my god, I’m going to need a ladder,” which caught me so off-guard that I nearly choked on my coffee. Our friendship started with book recs, morbid humor, and hair tutorials that segued into political rants, dirty jokes, and hours-long hangouts.

We’ve swapped quips about exes and old movies, drooled over our favorite WNBA players, and fell asleep watching Steven Universe on the couch. We also, funnily enough, keep getting mistaken for sisters. While we consider each other family, we laugh about this assumption every time it occurs. She used to…