Júlia Villa (left) and Katie Hanson (right) on the first day of their senior year (Courtesy of Katie Hanson)

I love friendship. Who doesn’t? A curated, loving, irreplaceable group of people who know you in completely unique ways, and the same is true vice versa? Chills! I don’t want to invoke “My Little Pony” too much, but they were absolutely onto something with their whole “Friendship is Magic” campaign. Anyways…

All friendship starts with the initial strike of the match: the introduction by a mutual friend, the neighboring seat in class, the serendipitous forehead bump in Whispers (still looking for this one). But, more often than not, my most rewarding, heartfelt friendships have started with a frush (a chic “friend crush”).

I know frushes get a bad rep. People are intimidated by the idea of yearning after someone from afar (creepy) or not playing the cool girl (whatever). This is true even when we know the overwhelmingly positive value of friendship, including its benefits on our health, self-worth, and feelings of belonging. So, hello people! Let’s get crushing!

But why are we so scared to make the platonic first move? Why are we reluctant to even think about privately liking someone before we really know them? It could be because more than 60% of Gen Z faces anxiety, including social anxiety. Or that we limit ourselves to meeting people in school, work, or our neighborhoods. And if a new friend doesn’t land at our feet, we don’t chase it. Notably, 22% of Americans say they have not made a new friend in five years (or more!). We all deserve (and need) community — there’s no shame in going after it.

Even amongst those who don’t admit it, I’m convinced we all have friend crushes — the person across from you in class who makes a comment that really resonates with you, the person donning the World’s Coolest Outfit™, your endearing neighbor who gets millions of packages delivered. They exist!

My first WashU friend crush started before I crossed Forsyth Boulevard onto campus, or even before I crossed the Missouri state border. As a transfer student, I was obsessive about picking the right school (again, whoops). A friend of a friend went to WashU, had my planned major, and offered to call. What a treat! I called her, sewing a dress in my old college’s craft space while our mutual friend introduced us. Immediately, she was so nice. Even during her own exam week, she grounded me as I ran around with scissors (big no-no) and fabric scraps and random worries about credits. Sitting on the call, she outlined what our major was like, shared her favorite matcha spot on campus. And here’s the kicker: She was simply charismatic and funny. So I told her I wanted to be friends. Sound the frush alarms!

Three months later, when I crossed Forsyth Boulevard, I finally met Júlia in person. She ran up to me with a big hug and a birthday party invitation on the first day of transfer orientation. A month later over gooey, delicious shakshuka I restated my friend crush, and we have been inseparable since.

Now, Júlia is a capital “F” Friend, a close, unique, cherished person, whose friendship I will carry through life. If I hadn’t expressed my frush to Júlia, who knows if she would be my Friend now? Of course, it’s easy to read this story and point to our mutual friend as the vital social lubricant, and that’s true. Her mutual endorsement gave us an immediate sense of trust and comfort. 

Not all friend crushes start that way, nor should they. Only relying on mutual friends fails to expose us to important people in other corners of campus and the world. With this mentality, I started frushing on a girl in my creative-nonfiction course last semester. She was witty, quick, unabashedly herself, and had insane amounts of niche knowledge. Friend crush? Check. 

I started waiting to walk with her after class, and we got to know each other more. We had a shared hatred of the gym, connected over mutual difficulties of decoding our professor who had a resting neutral face, and both wanted to go bowling. Who could blame us? So, a few walks in, I revealed my friend crush. 

In the past month, we’ve gabbed on the treadmills, I’ve introduced her to a booth of my friends at a rowdy restaurant, and in a heroic act, she introduced me to a friend of her own: this very newspaper. Because of her, I felt comfortable and confident doing something I knew I had an interest in. That’s what friends are for: to challenge you to explore the crazy chaos of life and just be there. And maybe that’s what frushes are for, too.