There’s an important issue going on in our society today, and I’ve generally tried to keep my mouth shut about it in public discourse because of the content, but something happened yesterday that made me decide it might just be time to say something about it.
I’m not going to get involved in rhetoric on gender issues as a whole right now. But there’s a thing that I keep hearing and it’s time someone (and by someone, I of course mean me) to set the record straight.
Today, we’re going to talk about the Friend Zone.
If you have a penis, your nostrils probably just flared and you turned at least one shade darker than you were already. If you have a uterus, you probably just rolled your eyes so hard you pulled something and are trying to close this post out as quickly as technology will allow.
I was scrolling through my Tumblr feed yesterday and someone posted the following:
You know how boys complain about being “friendzoned”? Well we experience this totally legit thing called being fuckzoned. It’s when boys want to have sex with you but they never seem all that interested in getting to know you
I was overwhelmed with the urge to respond, and I did. But since Tumblr is a more or less passive form of social networking for me personally, and The Passion is my soapbox, I’m not going to recreate my response here, but rather establish the position that response fielded to begin with.
The friend zone is real, and if you find yourself there, and I mean actually in the friend zone…you should be fucking honored. I’m serious. I know a lot of you guys are arguing a hundred different things at your screens right now.
Shut the fuck up and listen.
If you try to approach a woman you know, and she tells you that you mean too much to her to risk losing, assuming it’s not a bullshit (read: polite) way to let you down gently, it’s more or less about as lofty a position a guy can exist in, short of, you know, being a husband. The good kind. Yes, I hear that they still exist, I don’t know. My views on marriage are neither relevant to this post nor really all that conventional to begin with.
And the reason that it’s such a place of honor is this: by the time a woman turns 30, she has come to realize all too well just how shady, shallow, and predatory the male population at large really is. This is not to say that women aren’t shady, shallow, and predatory, but for as much as I argue against it…I’m out of steam to defend my gender any longer.
I have a LOT (I mean LOT) of extraordinarily attractive female friends who love me to pieces. And sometimes when one comes into my work, some of the guys I work with….frankly lose their fucking minds.
And why is it that I am constantly surrounded by all these beautiful women? Because I treat them like…and this is so important it gets treated as a header:
Human. Fucking. Beings.
I don’t walk up to a girl and say “wow you’re really hot.” Women hear that shit pointlessly to the level of harassment on a daily basis, and while we as men think it’s supposed to be nice and complimentary, it’s the most shallow, half-assed fucking compliment ever fielded. Ever.
It will put women on the defensive because they believe that you’re just talking to them for sex. And their experience in their teens and twenties (or as I like to call it: empirical evidence) teaches them that, in fact, by and large that’s exactly what the fuck is going on. He’s going to be nice and polite until you fuck him, and then he’s gonna wander off to go find someone else to smooth-talk into yet another fuck-and-forget. Because apparently this is the shit guys do.
I dunno but I agree with women on this thought: I regret infinitely less the people I don’t sleep with than the ones I do. I don’t really do one-night deals, I’ve got more depth than that. I also grew up not being considered all that attractive or popular, so I had the dubious joy of getting to see people for what they truly are, and the fact of the matter is outwardly attractive people are not often inwardly attractive, nor do they tend to possess a lot of depth. It’s not necessary. Our society teaches us that being pretty is a state of privilege, and that the only thing that you really have to do is keep being attractive and the world will give you whatever you want.
I have. No time. For that shit. From either gender. So when a woman with an attractive figure but cunty body language and mannerisms strolls through my field of view, while my coworkers are drooling I’m standing there shaking my head going “yeah but she acts like a fucking cunt. That’s so fucking unattractive.”
And that’s usually met with all kinds of sexually-objectifying or degrading remarks. And you know me, I’m all for humor regardless of the cost. That said, I laugh at myself at least as much as I laugh at anyone else, probably more. The fact remains, however, that men are perfectly willing to ignore entire facets of a person just to sleep with them one time.
That seems like a horrific waste of time and energy to me. I would much rather devote that same time and energy into the organic flow of getting to know a person. Not “a woman,” a person. And if something develops, then hell yeah. But if it doesn’t, I’ve probably made a friend for life.
You’ll notice that most of the comments on this blog come from one of three people. All three of them are extraordinary human beings, and they also happen to all be smokin’ hotties.
But when the boyfriends are gone and replaced and gone again, The Grice is still fucking there.
Because I’m in the friend zone. And that’s nothing to be fucking pissed off about.
Whiny fucking shits.