Mild

Mild friends. 

Like mild tea, mild salsa, lukewarm water. 

I like wasting things so I'm just going to dip this teabag in for a second and then throw it out. 

I really don't feel like drinking of you to the fullest. So let's just keep our teabags to ourselves. In fact, we don't even have to make the water totally warm. We don't have to bother because hot water would mean something. Something like "we actually care about each other."

Mild makes me think of a pious, demure wife drinking her milk and sugar in the kitchen while her husband drinks strong black coffee and smokes cigars after dinner with his buddies, expounding on politics and whatever else he pleases.  

Mild, like how you're taught to be at finishing school. 

Or like weather that's, well, not that bad. 

Mild makes me think of Jesus'disgust for people on the fence about him. He doesn't like it when people pretend to follow him but do so without any enthusiasm. That's called mildness. 

Mildness is not to be desired. 

Why, then, would anyone ever SUGGEST being mild friends with someone else? Wouldn't it be better to just slap each other in the face and move on with life than maintain a "mild" friendship?

To say yes to such a proposal would be a method of throwing pearls before swine. The pearl is you, the swine is the person who doesn't think you're worth being a hot tea friend, and the Bible provides a reason to not throw your pearls before the swine: because they'll trample them and then come after you and kill and devour you. Or something like that. There are wolves involved in the passage too. 

If you're desperate enough to agree to a mild salsa friendship, beware that your swine is going to fling his teabag in your face once he's drunk enough, and he's a swine, which means he'll never know a pearl was just before him (you).  

So in case I'm not the only one hearing this phrase, ladies, say no to intentionally lukewarm relationships.