I once heard someone say that every friendship is a love story, just written in whispers instead of grand declarations. If that’s true, then my love story with Ariane began with coffee-stained jeans and an accidental high five. She wasn’t just the friend who changed my life; she was the friend who saved it, polished it, and handed it back with a smirk that said, “Slow down, you’re making this whole life thing way too dramatic.”

Let me introduce you to her—or rather, to the lessons she left etched onto my soul (and maybe into my favorite pair of boots).

The Entrance: A Parisian Meet-Cute, Platonic Edition

I met Ariane in Paris, back when I was a wide-eyed study-abroad student romanticizing every cobblestone street. I had just spilled coffee down the front of my jeans while attempting to read Les Misérables outside a café because, of course, I thought I had to become Victor Hugo to survive here. She, with her perfect Parisian cool, laughed from the next table. “Hugo didn’t write it to punish you, you know,” she quipped before tossing me her scarf to cover the damage.

You know when someone says exactly the thing you need to hear before you’ve even met them? That was Ariane. Except she didn’t stop there. Within minutes, she decided we had to walk to Shakespeare and Company so I could buy a “less dangerous” book. She picked out one herself—something “lighter,” but equally life-changing: a slim volume of Rupi Kaur’s poetry, which she later insisted on reading aloud to me while we sat by the Seine.

Within two hours, it was clear that I’d just met the kind of woman who could—and would—help shatter my tendency for overthinking.

The Realizations: Lessons in Lightness (And How to Not Spiral in a Cheese Shop)

Life, up until Ariane, felt heavy for me. The kind of heavy where you hesitate before replying to a text because you’ve read too much into every punctuation mark, then spiral into existential dread at the grocery store because Gouda or Brie should not be decisions requiring emotional labor. I carried this heaviness into friendships, relationships, my Netflix queue—everywhere.

Ariane operated differently. She moved through the world like it was a party you’re expected to crash. Once, when I was debating whether or not to text a guy back after a very weird “I think we should consider dating seriously because you liked my Instagram story” moment, she shoved my phone into her bag and said, “Tell him tomorrow. Tonight, we dance.” We didn’t actually make it to the club that night (long story), but the lesson stuck: Not everything requires over-analysis and an emergency meeting with your therapist.

More importantly, she taught me about spontaneity—the kind that doesn’t require irresponsible decisions, but instead comes with healthy detachment, like a baguette nonchalantly poking out of a tote bag.

Here’s where Ariane outpaced the self-help books and inspirational Pinterest boards: She never looked me in the eye and said, “Just let go!” (ugh). Instead, she normalized lightness by living it. Walking through the streets of Paris in a thunderstorm? She’d shrug, buy a €2 umbrella from a street vendor, and act like it was the perfect fashion accessory. Worried I’d mess up my French while ordering at a bakery? She’d dramatically mispronounce croissant before me just to steal the spotlight.

The Wisdom: Be the Cheese Knife, Not the Block

Ariane once told me, “You’re being a block of cheese.” When I very reasonably looked at her like she’d lost her mind, she waved a knife in my face—typical, as we were in the middle of one of her famous impromptu wine-and-cheese picnics in the Luxembourg Gardens.

She explained: “Cheese blocks are stubborn. They sit there, waiting for someone else to make a move. You? You’ve got to channel knife energy. Be sharp, dive in, cut through what you don’t like. Start shaping things. Otherwise, yikes.”

This odd but effective metaphor came to define her philosophy: Be active in your own life. Don’t just let things happen to you—participate, shape them, and yes, sometimes cheese metaphors land better than traditional wisdom. (Feel free to steal this at your next dinner party. I’ve used it alarmingly often.)

The Aftermath: Taking Ariane's Lessons Home

When I returned to Montreal after my time in Paris, I remember feeling a twinge of anxiety about whether I could preserve what Ariane had taught me. Even now, years later, her voice echoes. At brunch, when someone over-apologizes for being five minutes late (Me, three years ago: a full spiral), I channel Ariane and laugh it off with a joke about how time is a capitalist construct, and pancakes are eternal.

In relationships, when someone texts me “hey” after days of silence, I no longer pull out my metaphorical microscope to analyze intent. I channel Ariane’s breeziness and move on unless they step up with actual effort. “Be knife energy,” I remind myself. “Not a cheese block.”

Perhaps the biggest takeaway is this: friendship is transformative when it frees you, not when it binds you with obligations or agreements about who you have to be. Ariane didn’t tell me how to live—she finessed her lessons into how she lived. It was up to me to absorb them.

Your Ariane Is Waiting, Too

So maybe you don’t have your own scarf-wielding Parisian friend to interrupt your overthinking spiral (and seriously, I apologize for how insufferable that sentence sounds). But I firmly believe everyone can find an Ariane—a friend who sees the potential in your mess and leaves their footprints all over your personal transformation.

Here’s how to recognize them:

  • 💬 They say the thing you need to hear. And not always kindly. Your Ariane doesn’t coddle your insecurities, but they respect them enough to help you push past them.
  • 🎈 They embody the energy you want more of. You admire their lightness, resilience, or spontaneity—whatever will loosen your grip on life’s overrated seriousness.
  • 🥂 They make the ordinary extraordinary. From grocery runs to existential panic over your career, they find joy (or at least humor) in the routine.
  • ✨ They leave you better than they found you. Not in a moralizing, “I’m your fixer” way—more like a muse who subtly urges you out of your comfort zone.

The Story Goes On

Ariane and I still Skype occasionally—she’s busy running a vintage boutique online, and I’ve finally finished Les Misérables (with minimal coffee mishaps this time). Though geography separates us, her perspective continues to guide my friendships, love life, and the way I move through this world. And every once in a while, when life feels too complicated, I stop and ask myself: “What would Ariane do?”

Spoiler: The answer always involves a little laughter, a little levity, and maybe a really excellent cheese plate.