As a gentleman, I've never believed in the Friendzone. From its inception, it sounded as if you'd been denied something that was owed to you - as if being someone friend's entitled you to an opportunity to "shoot your shot." In reality, that's all you have: an opportunity to court someone. It's on the other person if they'd like to take you up on that offer. So if by the Friendzone you mean the feeling of dread and misery you feel while still hanging around the person that rejected you because you still feel a sexual bond with them, then I believe in that. Not only do I believe in it but I've owned several properties in this Zone.
Soon to be completing my ninth year of bachelordom, I'm no stranger to one-sided games of courtship. Let us not forget that as a gullible gay man, I've chased after an embarrassing amount of straight men. They were all so pretty and kind and interesting, how was I supposed to distinguish their openness from advances towards me? Looking back at it, very easily, but queer college kids have a hard enough time dealing with the same pool of out-people they know; it's very easy to peek back into that walk-in closet to see if there's anyone else in there.
I wish I could say these instances of sexual incompatibility were my only trips into The Zone, but you know they weren't because whining about being single is my "new" favorite pastime.
The queer gods have always played a cruel joke on me: giving me interest in guys that see me as a blob while allowing others I deem unworthy of my product to see my value. There are many reasons why a guy might say no to my advances. The classic "I'm just focusing on myself" has long been one of my favorites, for I've used it earnestly and to avoid confrontation. "You're not my type" is a harsh one to hear, but when the sexual chemistry isn't there, it's not there. Surprisingly I've never heard nor used "I just don't want to lose your friendship." Actually, that's a lie. I've used that line after a guy has told me no and I don't want him to pull away out of awkwardness.
So how do I keep finding myself in this newly accurate description of the Friendzone? Am I just overly emotional? Do I get attached to a fantasy of how our relationship could be? Am I the reason for my permanent residency? Nah, couldn't be me. For some reason, guys can't see my amazing personality or my devilish good looks or my new semi-amazing body. Why don't men realize I can make them better?
Well, I think I found the answer. Sort of. Last week I watched a comedy video from a black Frenchman on the subject. Spoiler alert: his "theory" is that we put ourselves in the Friendzone, which honestly doesn't sound too farfetched. He goes on to explain that we make ourselves too available and friendly to the person we wish to court. People enjoy mystery from a potential love interest. The more they have to work for it, the more likely they'll want to pursue it.
While I don't totally agree with the video, I can see its merits. My main tactic - after getting past my "Are you gay?" pickup line days - has always been to become someone's friend first and then see if romantic tension will arise. That's what Boy Meets World taught me to do; how could Cory and Topenga be wrong?
I've also realized that I don't leave much mystery, either. Granted, I'm fairly quiet on a day-to-day basis, but my closest friends know how much I actually talk and like to reveal about myself. As I've discovered from a recent first date, if I really like a guy, I'll divulge information I don't even discuss with my friends. It was an oddly freeing sensation. It led to the fellow asking us to just be friends, however, I got that energy from him during the date as well. That's right, my dear friends (and associates). I can feel impending friendship. It's a gift and a curse, honestly.
What I'll do with this new information, I surely do not know. All I know is that I'll continue to be friends with those that only see me as a friend while I continue my search across this growingly trendy city of Baltimore.
Word.
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