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The Danger Zone aka The Friend Zone

I’ve been meaning to address this for the longest time but life has gotten in the way of my – The Date Expectations – pursuits.

In the pilot season of F.R.I.E.N.D.S, (I know there appears to be a trend on quoting the series in quite a few of my posts) there is an episode where Ross is agonising over his secret love for Rachel, and Joey as a matter of fact informs him that he has sat on it for far too long and now it was nearly impossible to change this friendship to something romantic. His exact words were: Never gonna happen. You and Rachel. Because you waited too long to make your move and now, you’re in the friend zone…. Ross, you’re mayor of the zone.

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And so began the countless memes and popular culture references to this exact situation, where a friendship exists between two people, one of whom has unrequited romantic feelings for the other. Most of us have been there, either on the giving or receiving end of things. Some of you may deny this and conveniently erase this embarrassing memory from your otherwise perfect lives. But let’s not kid ourselves,  you too – Yes, you – have been there.

Just this year alone, I’ve met with friends and friends of friends who have discussed their dating experiences in detail with me, thanks to my pesky, nosy questions that I flagrantly pose at social events. And what was fascinating to me is how quite a few of them at some point in their lives, have had amorous interest in their friends or people in their immediate social circle, but held themselves back from acting on it because they felt like they had waited too long and had  found themselves in a situation where they’d been diabolically friend-zoned to a point of no return.

To write about this seemingly awful idea of the friend zone, you’d think that I have had ample experience in this danger zone but the truth is (and thankfully so), I can only think very few occasions where I’d been undeniably friend zoned. The first and most pivotal time, was in my teenage years where I mustered up the courage to befriend whom I thought was the cutest guy I’d ever met. We’d talk on the phone every night before we went to sleep and hung out every other day after school hours to enjoy 50 cent ice-cream cones from McDonalds’. It was only after 3 months that I found out that I was out of his league because he batted for the other team. He had developed a crush on a boy he had met and decided to tell me about it. I should have known from the way he perfectly styled his hair, the manner in which he wore his pants just a little too snugly and how he strutted down the streets. I should have seen the rainbow flag he was waving loudly and proudly. But when a man buys you ice-cream and your favourite gummi bear candy, and walks down the street with his arm around your shoulder, you get a little punch-drunk and disillusioned. In retrospect, it’s side-splitting and makes for an excellent story to recount at a party. But back when I actually realised we couldn’t be together, it left me dejected and pessimistic temporarily. The wonderful thing about your adolescent years is that most of us don’t remember things for long. You get hurt but you pick yourself up quickly and move on but in your adult years, the pain hits a little harder and you remember every detail the same way an elephant has steel-trap memories.

So to gather some qualitative data, I sent some friends (single and attached) a text message recently asking them to recount a time in their lives where they had either been friend-zoned or had consciously friend-zoned someone, and these are some of the replies I got:

“Being friend-zoned feels like you’re in purgatory. You think you’re fucking close to heaven but actually, you’re knee deep in hell.”

“If I have a feeling that he is pursuing me and I just wanna be friends, I’d make it a point to refer to him as ‘bro’ just to set the record straight without actively addressing the situation.”

“It’s like not getting the job you applied for even though you really wanted it and are definitely qualified for it. And the employer calls you up every day to sing praises about the person they did hire!”

“Coincidentally, I went out yesterday with a friend and got an almost confession. He was complimenting me and then suddenly said ‘I think if I had an ideal type of girlfriend, you come closest out of all the girls I’ve met.’ I sat there stunned and then went ‘haha thanks’. I guess he took my hint and just went on to talk about girls in general or something.”

“You go back and forth on whether you took too long to confess your feelings. You thought you were laying the foundation and making calculated moves but before you know it, she’s in the arms of some other guy, and telling you how she can’t wait for you to meet him.”

and because we all have that one smartass friend:

“Does it count if I haven’t told someone yet? I need to ring up Ryan Gosling tonight. I think it’s time he knew we can only be friends.”

A quick Google search will inform you that there are in fact books on the market that advise readers on how to get out of the friend zone if they’re in it. And for the non-book readers, there are tons of articles and listicles online on the topic. I trawled through the internet to find some answers but as we all know, the internet generally poses more questions than actually giving you any answers.

I’m not sure that we can forever avoid being in the friend zone. It is bound to happen at one or point or another. When you like someone or if you feel like you’re attracted to them, most of us try to get to know someone on a more platonic level to test the waters instead of diving nose deep into a sea of uncertainty. And besides, at risk of sounding naïve, don’t some of the best love stories stem from a solid, natural groundwork of friendship? From the superficial research that I’ve done prior to writing this entry, I realise a lot of self-help books immediately label men/women who try the friendship route as the ‘nice guys’ and how they need to snap out of it. There are so many articles that advise men particularly to stop playing the nice guy and get out there to claim what’s theirs. A little aggressive if you ask me! I mean I see their point. We all want to go out of our way to do nice things for the people we love. This is no different from it. That said, I understand the full value of self-preservation and not devaluing oneself. No one should make all the sacrifices and make unnecessary compromises at the risk of looking like a doormat but you feel what you feel so where do you draw the line?

Yet again, I have only questions and no answers. Dr Helen Fisher might have some insight on this so you could check in with her. But if I had to dole out some advice, it would be this. Firstly, you – yes you – who is harbouring super loveydovey feelings and spending every waking minute imagining who your offspring is going to take after, you or the love of your life who doesn’t know it yet – STAWP! Crack addicts need their crack but crack, I hear tastes a lot better when you’ve had some separation time so do just that. Peel yourself from how you feel and leave some breathing room for the friendship to possibly flourish to a relationship. And you – If you’re in a situation where you know someone has romantic feelings for you and you might feel the same, let them know instead of leashing them along on a wild ride. But if you don’t see the potential for something more, don’t be an asshole and sweep the matter under the rug thinking the matter would resolve itself. Address it! This person, this friend of yours has feelings and emotions just like you do and is capable of heartbreak and anxiety just like you are, so put them out of their misery and let them know you’d like to be friends. It’s not going to be pretty and it will most definitely be awkward for a while, because who wants to hear from the person they might be in love with that they just want to be buddies? – how awful! – but at least you’d have set the record straight from the very beginning and both parties are clear.  And who knows, you might end up being the best of friends and laughing about it at a Christmas party in years to come.

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xo

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A Spankin’ Good Time

[Contribution]

Vacations are great for the soul. Vacations as a single woman are even better. The world suddenly (albeit finitely) becomes your oyster and your options are immediately limitless; you are a little less, nay a lot less inhibited. Vacation me is jarringly different from the real me. The control that I’m mad for, is left behind; No room for it in my suitcase and besides, the need to exercise control on vacation is inessential because vacation me is easy breezy and pretty much open to the idea of everything, well, almost everything. This sort of temporary philosophy in life, seen by most people as crazy, is thrilling and like the after-effects of copious amounts of tequila, also potentially perilous. Irrelevant thoughts when you’re Little Miss Easy Breezy on vacay.

About a month prior to a recent short trip to the Pacific Northwest (PNW), I decided to put all thoughts of serial killers aside and went onto two online dating platforms to 1. Shamelessly source for recommendations on what to do and eat in the city and 2. To potentially meet new folks to hang out with and experience the city I’ve been to umpteenth times through a different set of eyes.

Tinder and OkCupid demographics in the PNW seem to include plenty of men in fully disclosed open/ polyamorous relationships, and men who are serious about craft beer, their beards (if I had a dollar for every lumbersexual type I saw, I’d be rich), whiskey, cats, comments about their dogs and kids looking cuter than yours, the Seahawks, the Mariners, fishing, kayaking and cliff jumping. I’ve also learnt that phrasing is everything on a profile. Apparently, it’s completely legit to mention that one is ethically non-monogamous. I don’t know what that even means; do you sit through a certification course to determine if you’re an ethical non-monogamist or an unethical one? And when you stipulate that you are heteroflexible, does that simply mean you’re pansexual? Because it isn’t already painfully confusing enough for me to comprehend men that you now have to spin new fancy words to wrap my head around? That’s fine, so long as you aren’t going to cling wrap my naked body to a table and gorge my eyes out, I can try to understand. I’m not saying I agree with these careless modern labels, but I can try to understand.

Ethical non monogamists and polyamorous enthusiasts aside, the emerald city boasts an intellectually stimulating array of men. You know, the kind who take the time to craft sentences in an eloquent and charming manner, with a hint of cheekiness. And that’s precisely what drew me to Baby Jesus. Baby Jesus was affectionately dubbed as such because of his lusciously long tresses that resembled the son of God and a beard (*squeal) that is so impressively groomed that I wouldn’t be surprised if some Jewish person decided to betray him out of jealousy. Sacrilegious! I digress. Baby Jesus in a nutshell looked like a hippie but a well put together hippie – with an enviable career in video game design (nerd alert. Also, my kryptonite) for one of the powerhouses and an adventurous spirit. I knew instantly we would get along so when he offered to come pick me up from my hotel to take out on a surprise outing, I felt no fear nor discomfort at the idea. Generally, I have very good intuition when it comes to people. This would be the first time I’m meeting an almost complete stranger on a date in a foreign country. If my luck had been that terrible and if he had in fact turned out to be a creeper or God forbid, a mass murderer, I most definitely deserved the punishment that ensued for making such shockingly piss poor decisions in life.

After an evening of delicious tacos (the best in the emerald city, I’m told) Baby Jesus took me to my next stop – a well known cupcakery in the city. Any man who tries to win my heart with cupcakes gets bonus points no matter how much nicer his hair looks, compared to mine. I love meeting people who see the world differently from the way I do. Baby Jesus is a practicing Christian and was once engaged; He told me he loves going out on dates and that he loathes casual sex; Intimacy to him comes in other forms that don’t need to involve mindless sexual intercourse. I will soon learn what this actually means.

After an engaging conversation involving rambunctious laughter over a salted caramel and raspberry meringue cupcake; Both flavours were his choices as he looked at them sitting in the cake rack with lusty eyes, I couldn’t bear to let him simply choose one so I forwent my initial red velvet option to offer to pick his two favourites for us to share. Upon my thoughtful suggestion, he leaned over to the cashier and told him that I was the best date ever. Not-embarrassing-at-all.

The third part of our date involved a walk in the park. Baby Jesus had suggested in one of his text messages earlier that day for me to wear comfortable footwear and the walk in the park was the reason for this. The Summery day was coming to a nice cool evening and as we sat on the bench and talked about the things and people we have loved, I knew at that very moment that I was having a wonderful time. Upon a kneejerk comment I made about Americans being really daft, he leaned over and kissed, I suspect to shut me up. No complaints there.

As it got a little chilly, I invited Baby Jesus back to my suite to hang out over a cuppa tea. During the drive, it became evident what a naturally affectionate person he was. He spoke of his travels to India and why he loves what he does and throughout the entire 12 minute drive, he didn’t let go of my hand as he caressed it softly like we had known each other for years. At that point, I understood what he meant by intimacy in other forms.

Baby Jesus was an excellent kisser and my kind of nerd. I mean sure, I had to gently keep moving his hair from his face and tucking it behind his ears but what a refreshingly new thing to do. I remember cracking a joke about how it’s a good thing I have a haircut that resembles a boy’s to balance it all out. At that very moment, he slapped my bottom and I thought

– Oh my –

Being a video game designer means coming up with stories to make people’s fantasies online come true. Evidently, Baby Jesus adopted this stance in the bedroom as well. Granted this is a dating blog and not my very own version of Fifty Shades of Grey, I shall spare you all the details on what ensued. But let’s just say it was an exhilarating night of some cheeky fun that involved twitching open palms, a good set of sharp teeth and a leather belt. Laying in bed entangled all night in someone with whom you didn’t have sexual intercourse with is an experience worth writing a poem about.; it’s a different kind of intimacy, one I had never experienced before. As baby Jesus planted kisses on the back of my neck as he lulled me to sleep, I thought about three things before finally dozing off– Firstly, that intimacy is subjective and secondly, I had learned a very useful lesson on what it truly means to lose control and just let go. My final thought before Baby Jesus got the opportunity to hear my snores that resembles that of a baby grizzly bear’s grunts was a gentle reminder to myself to apply baby lotion to my stinging buttocks the following morning.

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Dear women, stay classy.

Contribution/Rant #1 by Mr. Man

I’ve been a fan of women since day one.  They’re the Ying to our male Yang.  And I’m all for female rights and equality.  It irks me when some meatheaded lunk objectifies a woman saying what a great ass she has and what he’d do to her, given the (unlikely) chance.  Personally I keep such oafs out of my life and leave the conversation when it starts to take a turn for the worse.  It’s gross, nasty and unnecessary.  You can compliment a woman without the need to tell the whole world of your salacious predilections.

Men like that belong in the previous century.  So why is it that I’m beginning to have more and more online interactions with females where some guy on the bus is a hot piece of ass and she’d totally do that?  Hello! Firstly, I’m talking to you and secondly, you’re doing the exact same thing women have complained about for eons.  Have the tables turned so much that women are picking up where men left off?  I hope not, as I have always thought females were classier with better manners than most of us men.  Who the hell walks into a cake shop and then tells whoever will listen about what they’re gonna do to that slice of carrot cake?  How it looks so sexy, all slathered in cream cheese – with its inviting looks begging for it to be licked, nibbled, bitten and finally swallowed whole into their greedy piehole.  No one, right?  Well, no one who wants a quick visit to the loony bin at least.  No one deserves to be objectified.  Keep it classy ladies and us guys will try our best too.