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I cannot exactly recall how the two of us struck our friendship but what I do know is that we have been friends for quite some time now in an on and off manner. It was in the course of watching a football match at a public place. The two of us are supporters of Chelsea football club and we sat next to each other enjoying the match. It had been a good day for Chelsea and anytime they scored, we found ourselves hugging, jumping and shouting in a celebratory mood. And so for a match that Chelsea won by three goals to nil, we ended up doing this three times on our very first meeting. Without any pre-arrangement, we found ourselves, in the company of other Chelsea fans, heading to a joint where we drank till the wee hours of the morning in celebration of the win. All this while, we did not know each other�s name, where we lived or worked. Not that it mattered to our friendship anyway. We had a time of our life that even David and Jonathan would envy! Amid handshakes and more hugs, we exchanged names, phone numbers and promised to call each other the next day as we staggered to the car park to go and nurse our respective hangovers. Of course, the next day passed and weeks turned to months without any phone calls from each other. Not that I was hoping for one from him though. Having been in this life�s journey for two scores and six, I know how these kinds of friendship work. It is not for nothing that they are called beer bar friends, for they are contracted in beer bars and other similar environments like parties, funerals, festivals and the like. The kind of conversation they generate is called beer bar talk and is not admissible even in a people�s tribunal. On the rare occasions that one beer bar friend decides to call the other, their conversation goes like this: �Hello Kofi, I just read about your promotion in the papers and decided to call and say hi.� Quietness at the other end of the line. �We need to touch base and celebrate.� More quietness, followed by some mumbling, em, er, who is on the line please? �Oh this is Tusker, your friend, the accountant of Magani Bitters. Kofi is still in a trance. �Magani Bitters?� Oh the one who was sitting next to you during the Chelsea match.� And they call themselves friends! Now able to put a face on the voice, Kofi suddenly comes to life, murmurs some apologies and blames the initial difficulty on a bad net work. He tries to make it up by asking Tusker about madam and the children, forgetting that in their previous encounter Tusker had made it clear that he did not have a nucleus family yet. The two beer bar friends catch up on their passion, football and touch briefly on other social issues and promise to meet up at the usual place. But that is end of story, at least for now, until three months later when the two friends meet at another social engagement. Before they depart, the ritual of exchanging phone numbers will be repeated with each explaining how he lost the number when he lost his phone. This scenario will repeat itself as often as they meet. The good thing about beer bar friends is that they hardly bother us and whatever happens to them remains none of our business. Even though at our next encounter we would pretend how sorry we are about the death of their relation, we might have heard of it long before meeting them, without bothering to put in a call. Not that they would have behaved differently though, if it had been the other way round. It is normally a mutual sort of behaviour. Their names never stick with us, neither do ours with them. Most of the time it is on first name basis or nick names, as in the popular Azonto advert doing the rounds, which actually epitomises beer bar relationships. My difficulty which perhaps you may also share is why we are so eager to take their phone numbers when we know we will never go out of our way to call them. Why do we always carry a countenance which suggests that meeting them is the best thing that ever happened to us and yet five minutes after we part company we forget that they ever existed? Is it anything to do with man�s hypocrisy or what? So what makes this sort of friendship thrive when both parties know that it is founded on the superficial and has no roots at all? Is it because they don�t tend to over burden us with their personal issues and are not always breathing down on our necks to ensure that we stay on the narrow path as real friends would do? Or is it the fact that we don�t share in their sorrows like we would a true friend? Sometimes, beer bar friends come in handy in times of difficulty. I remember when I bumped into one at the Tema port while clearing some goods recently. This smartly dressed customs officer came to me and shook hands with me. The wide grin on his face told me that we had met before but I could neither recall where nor put a name to his face. A colleague of his passing by said, �Richie, how?� And quickly the chips fell in place. I remembered we had met at a friend�s wedding a few weeks earlier. With his assistance I was able to avoid most of the delays at the port and got my goods cleared in good time. Significantly, it is not uncommon for what started as beer bar friendship to mature into proper friendship with time. This often is the case when the meeting points for whatever reasons become regular. In reality though, we all have our own beer bar friends and truly it doesn�t hurt to have a dozen or two. After all, you don�t visit when they are sick or bereaved; you only remember them on sight. All it costs you is their occasional handshakes, artificial hugs, the phone calls and the effort to hurriedly put a face to an unfamiliar voice. And who in this world does not enjoy free things? I do and hope you do too and that is why I am inviting you to join me in raising our glasses as we say �Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year� to our beer bar friends! Cheers.