My boyfriend and I don't have any hobbies in common. We don't have weekends for going hiking or mountain climbing, nor Wednesdays for salsa or bachata, nor evenings for yoga or mornings for cycling and specialty coffee. We don't have anything that binds us to each other like a subscription, an extracurricular activity that you've already paid for until next year. You can unsubscribe whenever you want. We are fond of each other, without intermediaries. A clean thing, which leaves no room for error, a blank voucher with random options: the last session of the day to go see the Sorogoyen film, a paddle surf excursion in Colònia de Sant Pere, an exhibition at the Toni Catany, a walk through Estanyol or a dinner at the Vietnamese restaurant in Palmanova.

In general, there are two groups of people: those with whom we can simply be, and those with whom we necessarily have to do something. If you don't believe me, take a quick look at your friends and family (or even partners). The people with whom we always have to do something are those with whom—intentionally or not—we make plans, those with whom we always have something to do, making them feel somewhat incomplete. I have nothing against a friend who goes for a run, a friend who goes to the movies, or a parent who finds a shared hobby with their children to spend time together. But allow me to doubt that these are the people who truly know us.